


Sing for Me, Pretty.

by MizErie



Category: Leathermouth, My Chemical Romance, Pencey Prep
Genre: Basement Gerard Way, Delusions, Gerard's Basement Room, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pencey Prep Lyrics, Physical Abuse, Psycho!Gerard, Straight!Frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizErie/pseuds/MizErie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><img/><br/>This story was inspired by the LeATHERMOUTH photo shoot in the <a href="http://i.imgur.com/bTItCBq.png">above collage</a>. </p>
<p>Frank Iero is a known name in the rock music scene. He was the frontman for the hugely successful Pencey Prep. After Pencey Prep split, Frank spent his time and energy with his label, Skeleton Crew. He was introduced to LeATHERMOUTH through his label, and the band offered him the position of frontman for them. With this band, Frank has propelled himself to superstardom. But with superstardom comes risks and consequences. One of those risks is psycho stalker fans. </p>
<p>(Note: This story is part AU, part canon. In this story, My Chemical Romance never happened; it didn’t even <i>almost</i> happen. Plus, I twisted some facts about Frank.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please be forewarned, this story includes explicit violence and rape. Parts of this fic may be disturbing for sensitive readers!
> 
> Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with My Chemical Romance, LeATHERMOUTH, Pencey Prep, or the guys that make up any of these bands. No part of this is true; it is purely a fictional story. Any part of this story that resembles real life is only coincidental. No parts of this story may be reproduced or used without permission.
> 
> (So, yeah. I just read this back for the first time in forever. This needed so much work! In theory, it's a great story; but what's posted here is just messy!)

It was all over the news. “Lead Vocalist for Popular Hardcore Band Missing.” When reading the actual articles or listening to the news stories, it was said more specifically that Frank Iero of LeATHERMOUTH, and formerly of rock band Pencey Prep, had been missing since a few hours after their last show. After their set, the band was heading out to celebrate. Iero had stayed behind to wrap up some business and was supposed to meet the rest of the band members at a local pub. Iero never showed. James Dewees, the band’s drummer, has been at the forefront of the search efforts and has made several public pleas for anyone with information on the missing Iero to come forward.

Iero’s car was found in the venue’s parking lot still locked, and his belongings were left untouched in the small room the band had been using as a green room. Among his belongings were Iero’s wallet and car keys, indicating this was not a robbery attempt. Police had questioned the venue’s staff, and forensic teams combed the place. However, no trace of what had happened to Iero turned up during the investigation.

It wasn’t until a phone call into the city’s tip line was received today that police got their first lead. That tip led police…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only half of the news story. The last half of it is the epilogue. All of the chapters will be written in third person from Frank and Gerard's perspectives and will not have this "news" feel to it.


	2. Day 1

Frank awakes in unfamiliar surroundings. His head is throbbing like his brain is trying to explode out of his skull. He doesn’t remember how he got here. The last thing he remembers is telling his bandmates he would meet them shortly. He groans as he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes. He blinks rapidly a few times and then allows his gaze to scan the room.  
  
There’s not much light in the room, only what little sunlight is coming through a small window near the ceiling. There are two doors on one wall, both of them closed. The walls are practically wallpapered in drawings. More drawings are stacked haphazardly on a desk cluttered with art supplies and strewn among the clothing and comic books on the floor. Directly in front of him is an unmade bed; the sheets are a mix-match of superheroes. A nightstand sits beside it with a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray. A smoke sounds good to Frank, so he stands and walks to get one.  
  
The only thing that seems out of place in what is obviously an artist’s bedroom is this old refrigerator. Frank lights one of the cigarettes and takes a long draw off of it as he curiously turns towards the fridge. It’s an older model, not very big. The cream colored enamel finish has cracked away in some places allowing rust to grow. Frank inhales the chemical laced smoke again and then cocks his head to the side as he continues looking at the odd appliance. He realizes it’s not even running and wonders if it would even run anymore. He swings around on the ball of his foot to head towards the doors to figure out which one is the way out, bringing the cigarette up to his lips.  
  
“You’re going to ruin your voice with that awful habit,” comes a small voice from the corner. Frank drops the lit cigarette as he jerks around in shock towards the voice. In a corner sits a dark silhouette. Frank wonders how he didn’t notice the person before and how long he had been sitting in the corner just watching him. The man speaks again. “You might want to pick that up before it starts a fire in here. There’s no way out, and I’d hate to see you burn alive.”  
  
Frank bends down to retrieve the cigarette before the words spoken actually process in his brain. _There’s no way out…_ Fear overtakes Frank, and his heart begins banging wildly in his chest. He tries to sound calm as he says, “There’s two doors right here.”  
  
“Yes, but one is only a bathroom with no windows, and the other I have locked. You can’t get out, Frankie.” Frank’s breath catches as he hears his name, his nickname, called by the unfamiliar voice. He tries to calm himself by telling himself that lots of people know his name, an entire fanbase of unfamiliar people. The dark figure rises from his place on the floor. He takes a few steps forward and stops. Still mostly draped in shadows, Frank can only make out a couple of the man’s features: long, black, stringy hair with piercing eyes looking out through it. He can see the shadows of the man’s lips move as he begins to speak again.  
  
“I have you all to myself now, Frankie. No other fans to take your attention away. No other band members to keep you safe. Just you and me. And time.” Frank rushes to one of the doors and pulls it open. Past the door frame is a simple bathroom, cluttered just like the bedroom. He hears the man laugh behind him, spurring him to move more quickly to the other door. He throws his body weight into pulling the door open, but it doesn’t budge from its frame. Frank looks at the door. He spots a large, silver padlock at the top of the corner of it.  
  
“This isn’t funny. And my friends will come looking for me.” The man steps closer to Frank. Frank instinctively presses his back against the door, his palms and fingers splayed out against the wooden surface beside his hips. The man stops just outside of an arm’s length away from him. Frank notices the man’s pale complexion is marked by several red scratches.  
  
“I agree, Frankie; this isn’t funny at all. In fact, I’m quite serious. And as for your _friends_ , I’m sure they’ll look for you. They just won’t find you.” A malevolent half grin plays on the man’s lips.  
  
“Who… who are you?” Frank really doesn’t care what the man’s name is; it’s only a test. Frank figures if the man won’t share his name then he still stands a chance of making it out of here alive. But if the man gives his name up quickly, does that mean chances are high he won’t survive?  
  
“Where are my manners? I’m Gerard… Gerard Way.” Frank gasps, knowing his chances of living have just been cut down tremendously. But also because that name rings alarm bells in his head. He has received a letter from a “Gerard Way” every week for the last two years, all of them sent to where he was staying, be it a hotel, his home, the studio, or wherever. Places that common fans wouldn’t know he was at. Gerard steps two paces closer, his stench reaching Frank’s senses. Frank crushes his eyes shut and tries to press himself closer to the door than is physically possible, pressing the side of his face against it as well.  
  
“Now, now, Frankie. There’s no reason to be scared of me yet.” Frank shudders at the sensation of cold fingertips brushing down his exposed cheek. At the same time, he feels the butt of the now burnt out cigarette that is miraculously still tucked between his fingers pulled away from his grip on it. The rancid smell of body odor fades, and Frank forces his eyes open to look around. The man—Gerard—is placing the spent cigarette in an ashtray.  
  
Frank allows himself to relax just a bit with the other man across the room from him. “What do you want from me?” Gerard raises his gaze to Frank’s, a look that Frank can only identify as lust on his face. Frank prays to all the gods he doesn’t believe in that he read the man’s expression wrong.  
  
“I just want you to sing for me… for now.” Frank doesn’t mind that so much until he had said “for now.” Obviously this Gerard wants more from him than he is saying aloud. Things Frank’s mind doesn’t want to entertain.  
  
“If I sing for you, will you let me go?” Frank asks in a shaky voice.  
  
“I’m going to set you free eventually, Pretty. You’re way to special to be kept… in _this_ world.” Frank doesn’t like the way Gerard worded that statement. And he definitely doesn’t like being called “Pretty” as a pet name by this man. But his logic tells him it is probably better to go along with it for now.  
  
“What do you want me to sing?”  
  
“How about ‘Yesterday’? It seems fitting somehow.” Gerard steps back closer to Frank, his eyes glistening at the prospect of having the Frank Iero sing to him privately. Frank is still touching the door with his back. Gerard stops about seven feet away from Frank and settles himself down on the floor atop the mess.  
  
Frank looks at Gerard looking up at him expectantly. He opens his mouth, trying desperately to remember all the lyrics to the Pencey Prep song he hasn’t sang in years.  
  
“ _I think of running away_  
 _I can't keep running away_  
 _Can't keep feeling the same_  
 _I can't keep taking the blame_  
 _I wanna run with you_ ”

Gerard stands from the floor and walks into Frank’s personal space. His eyes keep tracing Frank’s tattoos in between watching Frank’s lips as the lyrics move between them. Frank can feel panic churning his stomach, but he presses on.  
  
“ _I don't care what we do,_  
 _Gotta get out of this place,_  
 _Because it feels like yesterday_  
 _Day, day, day oh oh oh_  
   
“ _There we go_  
 _Can't be wrong_  
 _'Cause it feels like yesterday_  
 _I can't be wrong_  
 _I’m… I’m…_ ”  
  
“I’m reliving yesterday,” Gerard breathes to Frank like the words are permanently etched into his memory. His hand settles over Frank’s breast bone. Frank can feel the coolness of Gerard’s skin through the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. When he doesn’t pick back up singing, Gerard makes eye contact. “What’s wrong, Pretty?”  
  
“I-I don’t remember the rest. I haven’t sang that in yea—” Frank doesn’t even see it coming, but Gerard’s cold hand collides hard with Frank’s face. Frank stumbles sideways, collapsing to the floor. He grabs the side of his mouth, feeling the warm wet of his blood from where the punch has split his lip. He looks up at Gerard. Gerard is standing over him, his eyes barely visible through his narrowed eyelids and his mouth drawn tight in fury. Frank cowers on the floor. Gerard kneels down onto one knee beside Frank. He fists Frank t-shirt and pulls him up from the floor until Frank’s face is nearly touching his.  
  
“When I say sing, you sing,” he growls from behind clenched teeth.  
  
Frank’s voice raises nearly an octave in fright, “B-but I don’t remember the words! It’s been YEARS!” Frank can feel Gerard’s heavy breathing blowing on his face.  
  
“Let’s help you remember then, Frankie,” Gerard states, sounding more like a threat than an offer of real help to Frank. Gerard drags Frank to his feet and throws him onto his bed. Before Frank can even try to get away from him, Gerard is binding Frank’s wrists together tightly with tape. Gerard tosses the tape aside and pins Frank’s hands to Frank’s stomach with his knee, leaning most of his body weight onto that knee Frank’s certain. Gerard grabs a white cloth and tries to gag Frank with it. Frank clenches his mouth shut and shifts his face as far away from Gerard as his body allows. “Don’t make me hit you again already, Frankie.”  
  
Frank isn’t going to give in, though. Instead, he tries to wriggle his body away a little more. He gets three quick, hard blows to the face, immediately knocking his defenses down for a moment. He’s not fast enough to clench his jaw again, and Gerard has the gag in his mouth and tying it painfully behind Frank’s head. Gerard grabs Frank’s arms and jerks him up off the bed. Frank realizes he is being drug towards the small refrigerator. He kicks his feet, fighting what he is sure is about to happen. Gerard slams Frank’s head into the fridge door, successfully ending Frank’s useless struggle. Frank’s head hangs listlessly as Gerard lifts him off the floor and folds his body up into the small appliance. Frank raises his head, pleading with his eyes for Gerard to not do this.  
  
“You can have a little time out in here to remember the lyrics. When you remember them, let me know, and I’ll get you out.” Gerard begins to close the door but quickly pulls it open again. “Don’t forget. Refrigerators are air tight, so you have very limited time in here, Pretty.” Gerard smiles at Frank in such a sweet way that is makes Frank’s stomach churn. The door is slammed shut, and Frank is left in pitch black and unable to move hardly at all. He can hear metal on metal sounds and can only assume he’s being padlocked into the archaic appliance.  
  
Frank closes his eyes and reopens them a few times, unable to tell the difference in his vision between the two. He starts to go over and over the song in his head, reciting the lyrics he can remember as much as he can around the cloth between his lips and teeth.  
  
Gerard stands close to the refrigerator and smirks to himself as he listens to the sounds of Frank’s muffled voice coming from inside. He has Frank Iero in his room. He has Frank Iero at his disposal. He simply just has Frank Iero. Gerard steps away and picks up a drawing pad and pencil. He settles into the bed and begins drawing the fear he had seen in Frank’s eyes.  
  
For some time, he drags the graphite across the paper, smudges it here and there, and erases his mistakes, which happens to be most of what he draws. He knows he needs a nap; he spent most of the night last night watching for Frank to awaken. He tosses the pad and pencil onto his art desk and strides over to the fridge. He can still hear Frank steadily mumbling to himself. He places his hand on the cold metal door in a loving gesture, knowing Frank is oblivious to it. He crosses back over to his bed and snuggles up with his pillow for some much needed rest.  
  
Frank can feel his heart pumping faster as the oxygen in the small, enclosed space dwindles down. He becomes aware that he is panting for oxygen his lungs aren’t going to find. He gives up trying to recall the last of the few words of “Yesterday” that are eluding him. He once thought he was afraid of dying, but here in this blackness, he tries to find some peace with what he has done with his life. There are still things he wanted to do, things he wanted to experience. As his minds plays through that list, Frank realizes that he has given up already; he is saying his goodbyes to world. As he pants harder, gasping for fresh air instead of his own exhaled breath, he decides this is not how he’s going to die, not in a box in a psycho’s bedroom. He begins violently struggling against the constraints of his prison. If he’s going to die, he’s going to die fighting!  
  
Gerard awakes to the sounds of Frank’s violent movements and muffled screaming. He stretches his body awake and runs his hand through his greasy hair to push it back out of his face. He thinks it’s about time for another shower, possibly a shower with his beloved rock star. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and listens for the sound he's waiting for. Frank continues screaming. Gerard is unable to make out the words he’s screaming, though. He’s actually surprised Frank is still conscious in there.  
  
Frank violently thrashes his body around again, causing the entire appliance to rock slightly in its place. Gerard moves to steady it. He can hear Frank whimper out a sob, and then he hears the soft thud of Frank’s head landing on the inside of the refrigerator. Gerard retrieves the key to the padlock from his lockbox, where he keeps all his keys except the key to the lockbox itself; that key stays in Gerard’s pants pocket. He stands for a few moments listening to make sure Frank is still quiet. After hearing no more sounds coming from inside, Gerard pops the lock open and slowly opens the door.  
  
Frank’s limp body slumps down even further with the added space at his knees and feet. Gerard can see his chest rising and falling with his quick breathing. He knows it won’t take Frank’s body long to replenish the oxygen in his system and Frank to regain consciousness. He quickly wraps his arms around Frank’s sweat drenched torso and carries him over to the bed. He gets Frank settled into the bed, adjusting the pillows to make Frank more comfortable, and takes the gag out of Frank’s mouth. Gerard slides his body over top of Frank’s, making sure to keep his upper body propped up on his arms.  
  
Frank slowly comes to, his head feeling light and tingly from the sudden oxygen rush to his brain. Instinctively he draws in a deep breath, relishing in the relief he feels as his lungs fill with oxygen and not carbon dioxide. As he regains more awareness, he can feel someone petting his short hair. He forces his eyes open to look at the person, hoping it was all just a bad nightmare. Gerard is smiling down at him, telling Frank it is real.  
  
Gerard continues to pet Frank’s head as he cocks his head sideways just a bit. “Hi, Pretty. Welcome back.” Gerard shifts just slightly, drawing Frank’s attention to the fact that Gerard is laying _on top_ of him. He pushes slightly against Gerard’s chest with his still bound hands lying between their chests.  
  
“What’re yo—what are you doing?” Frank manages to ask. He focuses on not moving his hips as to not give this man any wrong ideas.  
  
“No, it’s not time for that yet, Pretty. I just wanted to be close to you is all.” Even though part of him knows the answer, the part of him that is denying it wants to know what “that” is, but he’s not given the chance to think about it. “Does your head hurt now, Frankie? I can get you something to help if it does.”  
  
Frank nods his head slightly. “Yes, please.” Frank really just wants the body—the MALE body—to get off top of his. Gerard walks towards the bathroom and disappears inside. For a moment, Frank thinks about trying to get out of the bed and away, but he knows the only way out is solidly shut. He sighs softly to himself as he begins to acknowledge that he’s going to have to live through this as best he can.  
  
Gerard comes back with a couple of white pills and a bottle of cold water. Frank hesitates at taking the two unmarked pills. God knows what they are, but this guy doesn’t seem to want him dead—just yet—or he would have just left him the refrigerator to suffocate. Frank takes the pills in one hand and the bottle of water in the other. Since his hands are still bound, it’s awkward taking the pills, but the cold water feels amazing in Frank’s mouth and throat. Frank drinks the whole bottle in one turning up of it.  
  
“I’ll give you more, Frankie. You don’t have to horde it,” Gerard states softly as he snuggles back close to Frank’s side and begins petting his head again. Frank just nods. “Tell me about your tattoos, Pretty.” Frank thinks this man sounds a little too much like the teenage fangirls that wait hours for him to come out after shows, something that scares him considering this is one, a man, and two, a man who is definitely older than Frank.  
  
 _The best way to get out of this is to play along_ , his inner voice tells him. “Which one?” Gerard’s fingertips ghost over the skin on Frank’s arm as the man makes his decision.  
  
“Tell me about these portraits here,” Gerard says as his palm spreads over Frank’s right forearm.  
  
“Those are my grandmothers, Angelina and Lillian. Angelina was my mother’s mother, and Lillian was my father’s mother. I love them both dearly.” Frank sighs softly as he looks down at his tattoo. But his breath quickly catches when Gerard gives away just how much he knows already.  
  
“Kat Von D did a great job on them. I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother, Lillian, though.” His grandmother’s passing had not been too long ago and has yet to become common knowledge in the fanbase. But Frank just remains silent as Gerard’s fingertips begin grazing over each of his tattoos again. “What about this one, Pretty? What’s the story behind the bloody tooth inside your arm here?”  
  
Frank wants to see just how much this guy knows, so he lies. “It was a bet gone wrong. I ended up getting that as a prank by one of my friends.” Gerard’s expression quickly grows angry, and Frank is afraid of being hit again. Or worse, shoved back into the decrepit refrigerator to die. He starts to confess to his lie when Gerard seems to calm himself and gives Frank what he wants.  
  
“No, you got that after you got your wisdom teeth pulled and the idiot doing it ruptured your sinuses. You had a hard time getting them to stop bleeding out of your nose, and it all ended up infected. You missed all the touring in Japan and Australia because of it. Tell me I’m wrong, Pretty.” There is a hint of a challenge in his voice. A challenge Frank isn’t stupid enough to take.  
  
“You’re right. It’s just not my favorite story.” Gerard seems thoughtful for a moment.  
  
“I guess I can understand that. But all your ink has some meaning, Pretty. You don’t have anything on your body that was done just because.” Frank can’t help but wonder what else this man knows about him.  
  
“I need to go to the bathroom.” Frank feels like a child having to ask permission to take a piss.  
  
“You can’t get up. If you’d have said something earlier, I’d have let you go, but it’s too late now.”  
  
“Too late?” Frank repeats.  
  
“Those pills have really started to kick in, and you won’t have the balance or coordination to walk there.” Frank takes account of his mental status. Now that he has been made aware of it, he can feel the drugs poisoning his mind and body, but he’s not sure how he didn’t notice before; the effects are staggering. “Here. You can piss in this,” Gerard says as he hands Frank a small, metal bucket. “I’ll help you sit up. And stay sitting up.”  
  
Gerard doesn’t wait for Frank’s permission, pulling him into an upright position on the edge of the bed. Frank’s head immediately begins swimming and spinning. Frank can feel his pants being undone and cool fingers on his dick. “Frankie, you can go now.”  
  
“I can’t. I have to lay back down.” Frank sways sideways, his bound hands reaching out for some sort of support. Frank feels cold fingers on his cheek, and he swears there is some real compassion in Gerard’s voice this time.  
  
“Pretty, I’ll get you back down in just a minute. But I don’t want you to piss yourself while you’re out. Please. Just go.” There is a pause in Gerard’s talking, and Frank tries to remember if he even knows how to take a piss. “Good boy,” Gerard whispers.  
  
Frank realizes he has fallen over and leaned his head against Gerard’s chest. It’s so warm and comfortable that he could go to sleep right here. He can tell he’s being shifted again. Frank hears water running and movement of some sort. A warm body presses against his, and Frank tries to lean into the warmth. He hears a kind voice saying something about taking something off his wrists, but he doesn’t know who is talking or what they are talking about.  
  
Gerard watches Frank slip off into oblivion. He knows Frank will be unable to wake for at least the next six hours. He presses his lips to Frank’s in an almost chaste fashion and whispers “Good night, Pretty,” before settling in against his god for some sleep himself.


	3. Day 2

Gerard checks on Frank to make sure he’s still breathing. Once satisfied, Gerard grabs his wallet and his keys from the lockbox. He places a kiss on Frank’s forehead before heading towards the door that leads to the stairs out of here. He knows Frank is still well under the effects of the drugs he gave him and still won’t wake for another couple of hours. He figures he can use this time to get them some decent breakfast, even though it’s still in the early hours of morning.  
  
After making sure the lock is secure on the outside of his bedroom door, it doesn’t take Gerard long to drive to the diner he had called his order into from upstairs earlier, the only phone in the house. He pays the cashier and collects the two breakfast plates. On the way back to the house, Gerard makes a detour to a local coffee shop he knows is open all hours of the night. He orders two black coffees, as he knows this is all Frank will drink. With the completion of their breakfast being obtained, Gerard heads back towards his house, thoughts of Frank on his mind as always.  
  
He carries it all down the stairs, unlocks the padlock, and sets everything on his desk. He checks on Frank again, who is unmoved from when Gerard left. Gerard climbs the stairs again, leaving the door open for the brief moment he is gone. He crosses his living room and collects the last thing he needs before settling into the room for the day with Frank. Once back in his bedroom, Gerard secures the door again and slides the specially retrieved item under the bed before putting all his keys except the one back in the lockbox and sliding the lockbox into the hidden space in the wall under his bed.  
  
For a while, Gerard sits on the side of the bed just watching Frank sleep. He can’t believe how easy it was to simply steal Frank from the world. He had attended the last few shows they had played in the area and just patiently waited for the right opportunity. And that opportunity presented itself two nights ago. He saw Frank at the door to the office of the club. He waited for Frank to walk away and then approached him. He knew Frank would never turn down a drink with a fan, so Gerard held out a beer he had drugged in Frank’s direction while complimenting him on a great set that night. Frank had accepted the words and alcohol gracefully and asked him if he played. Gerard told him he played a little but what he played wasn’t great. They talked for a bit while Frank sipped on the tainted alcohol. Gerard led the conversation into some ideas he had created for comics that he thought would translate well into music. Frank seemed really interested Gerard thought. Finally, Frank made the mistake Gerard was hoping he would make: he asked Gerard back to the green room so they could hear each other a little better. After that, Gerard simply waited for Frank to seem beyond inebriated and led him out the back door of the club and into his car. No one ever saw a thing.  
  
Gerard interlaces his fingers with Frank’s unresponsive ones. He strokes his thumb up and down Frank’s as he leans over him and places a kiss on Frank’s mouth. He allows his tongue to trace Frank’s lower lip. He becomes dissatisfied at the lack of Frank’s lip ring. He has always loved Frank’s lip ring and wanted to feel it pressed against his lips. But he has planned for this, too.  
  
He steps over to the nightstand and pulls out the piercing supplies he had bought weeks ago. His hands begin shaking as he just thinks about the needle in the package, but he draws in a deep breath to steady himself. He recalls the conversation he’d had with piercing artist, who was not pleased with Gerard “piercing himself at home” but relented after hearing of Gerard’s needle phobia. The artist had given him precise instructions on how to do it.  
  
Gerard tries to rouse Frank, but Frank remains steadfast asleep. Gerard pulls the nitrile gloves on and goes to work. He meticulously washes Frank’s lip around the small scar from Frank’s previous lip piercing. Carefully he aligns the forceps around it. He closes his eyes for a moment to settle his nerves and then removes the small package containing the needle. Making sure the lip ring is easily accessible, Gerard break the sterile seal on the needle’s blister pack. Making sure to breathe his way through this and look at the actual needle as little as possible, he lines it up to the small, white scar. Gerard draws in a deep breath and holds it in. Then he pushes the needle through Frank’s lip and lets go of it to grab the small, gold loop. Gerard easily exchanges the needle for the lip ring.  
  
Gerard quickly gathers all the supplies up and takes them into the bathroom. He unlocks the bathroom closet and places it all on the top shelf to dispose of later. He shuts the closet back up and goes back out to Frank lying in the bed. Gerard can’t help but smile down at Frank, who now looks so much better to him. He sits down with his legs crisscrossed on the bed and starts petting Frank’s hair, waiting for Frank to wake and them to start their day together.  
  
When Frank wakes about an hour later, his head isn’t hurting as bad. But his lip is throbbing. He stretches the kinks out of his body from laying in the same position for so long and then reaches up to touch his mouth. Gerard quickly catches Frank’s hand in his own.  
  
“No, no,” Gerard chastises gently. “I don’t want you to get it infected, Pretty.” Frank’s eyebrows draw together.  
  
“You don’t want what to get infected?” he asks, but he can answer his own question; he feels it as his lips move. Frank carefully slides his tongue across the inside of his lip, Gerard intently watching Frank’s tongue in his mouth. He smiles like a proud child at Frank.  
  
“I fixed it, Pretty. You took it out and let it grow up, so I fixed it again.” Frank scowls at Gerard, but he’s fearful of what will happen if he shows any more anger than that. Gerard pretends to not see the death glare Frank is sending him and continues on. “I got us some breakfast while you were still sleeping, but I’ll have to warm it up a bit now. I’m sure it’s cold; I had to go get it while I was sure you wouldn’t wake, Pretty.” Frank listens incredulously at what Gerard is saying and the fact that this all seems very normal and domestic for Gerard. “I’m sure you need to use the bathroom, too. Do you feel better this morning, Frankie?” Gerard asks as he moves off the bed and starts gathering the breakfast together.  
  
Frank rubs his hands over his face, muttering from underneath them, “I don’t remember feeling bad last night.” Gerard smiles to himself that the pills work as perfectly as they are supposed to and then quickly hides his delight before turning to face Frank again.  
  
“You were just slightly disoriented, so you laid down for the night. Come, Pretty,” Gerard all but demands as he reaches his hand for Frank’s. “I can warm our breakfast while you use the bathroom.”  
  
Frank subtly moves his hand away from Gerard’s but climbs up out of the bed. He’s not ready to be assaulted for infuriating Gerard so early in the morning; from what he can see through the small window, it looks as if the sun has just begun to rise. As he rises to his feet, a small wave of vertigo washes over him, but before he can fall, Gerard is at his side with one hand holding the boxes of breakfast and the other Frank’s arm.  
  
“Why don’t you just sit here for a moment while I take this in there, and then I’ll come back and help you, hmm?” Gerard seems to ask, but Frank heard the command in the words. He bends his knees as Gerard pushes him gently back onto the bed. Frank watches Gerard grab the cardboard cup holder with two paper coffee cups in it and carry it all into the bathroom, wondering how Gerard’s going to warm food and coffee in a bathroom. Gerard rushes back out and over to Frank’s side. “Careful now, Pretty,” he cautions as Frank get to his feet again.  
  
“I’m better now,” Frank states coldly, just wanting Gerard to let him be. But Gerard keeps his hand on Frank’s lower back as he guides Frank into the bathroom. Being the first time Frank has really been in this room, he looks around. It’s larger than it first appeared; behind a curtain, Gerard has a kitchenette with a small refrigerator—that Frank notes is too small for him to fit into—under a counter and a microwave and coffee maker on top of the counter. Beside the small counter is shelves stocked with basic pantry items. He glances at Gerard to find Gerard has been watching him this entire time.  
  
“I have to make sure you eat well, Pretty” is all Gerard says on the matter. “You do your thing while I warm up breakfast.” Frank can again hear the demanding tone, but he draws the line here.  
  
“I’m not taking a piss with you in here.” Gerard quickly turns back from the small kitchenette to face Frank. Frank crosses his arms over his chest. He can tell the grin that curls Gerard’s lips is forced. Gerard crosses the two paces to stand in front of Frank. Frank’s resolve falters a little, but he doesn’t uncross his arms. Gerard gently brushes his fingertips over Frank’s cheek for a moment before firmly pressing the pads of his middle and ring fingers into the bruised and slightly swollen skin over Frank’s cheekbone, sending a surge of pain through Frank’s face. Frank whimpers faintly, and Gerard doesn’t have to speak for Frank to get the hint. Frank allows his arms to fall to his sides.  
  
“Let me get breakfast warmed,” Gerard reiterates as his fingers brush softly over Frank’s cheek once more. Gerard leans in and places a brief kiss over the dark mark before returning to the microwave. Frank dislikes having the man’s lips on his face, but he dislikes being threatened and abused even more, so he tries to not let it bother him.  
  
Frank steps over to the toilet. He takes a look over his shoulder to ensure that Gerard is still busying himself over there before quickly undoing his jeans. He tries to piss in record time and gets his jeans zipped back up. He flushes the toilet, and Gerard looks over his shoulder at Frank.  
  
“Done?” Frank just nods his head. “I’m going to be a few more minutes here if you’d like to go back out there and wait.” Frank just nods his head and walks out of the bathroom. He wonders into the bedroom and looks around, unsure what to do now. His eyes are drawn to the drawings on the wall. He steps over and starts to look at them. And then he gasps. Most of the drawings are of him or parts of him, his eyes or hands or tattoos or other features. He quickly begins to scan more of the walls. There are a few drawings of what look like comic characters, but most of the pictures are of him. He dashes to the desk and picks up the stack of drawings there. Him, him, him… they are all of Frank.  
  
“Do you like them?” Gerard’s voice startles Frank, and he drops the stack of drawings back on the desk and jerks around.  
  
“Th-they’re very, um, w-well drawn,” he stutters. Gerard still seems genuinely pleased with Frank’s comment despite the stammering. Gerard moves through the bedroom towards the bed with the boxes and coffees.  
  
“You’re very easy to draw, Pretty. The angles and lines of your face are nearly perfect for drawing.” Frank watches Gerard settle into the bed, not knowing if he should be flattered or insulted. Gerard allows Frank to stand there longer than he’d like before asking, “Aren’t you hungry, Pretty?”  
  
Frank warily sits down on the bed as far from Gerard as he can manage. Gerard passes Frank a box and a cup of coffee. “Thank you,” Frank mutters, barely more than a whisper.  
  
“I got you eggs, toast, and soy sausage. And the coffee is black, just like you like it. I know it’s not the best, Pretty, but the vegetarian restaurant doesn’t open for another hour.” Frank just nods and begins eating. Gerard watches him for a moment before he begins eating as well.  
  
They eat in silence for a while. Once Gerard has eaten most of his food, he looks to Frank. “Today you can work on a new song, Pretty. I’m going to draw. And I know you like to stay clean, so later this afternoon, I figured a shower was in order.”  
  
Frank puts his fork down. “I can’t write music without a guitar,” he states dryly. Gerard’s expression lights up. He puts another forkful of eggs in his mouth before closing the box and nearly jumping off the bed. He leans down beside the bed and produces a guitar case, laying it carefully on the bed beside Frank.  
  
“I brought this down for you this morning when I got our breakfast, Pretty. I know it’s acoustic and not electric, but my electric won’t work; I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it.” Gerard opens the case, and Frank just looks at the guitar for a moment. It’s an old Gibson, but it looks to be well cared for. Frank doesn’t stop himself from allowing his hand to reach out and run down the neck of the instrument. The steel strings against his fingers are soothing to Frank. “Pick it up, Frankie.” Frank honestly feels like that is an invitation from Gerard instead of a demand. He curls his fingers around the neck and withdraws the guitar from its resting place.  
  
Frank feels a small relief wash through him. He is being allowed his music at least. He strums the strings and begins tuning the guitar. He glances up at Gerard, and Gerard is watching him wide eyed in complete awe. Frank strums again to check the tuning. “Can I write anything?”  
  
“As long as it’s for me, you can write whatever you want.” Frank plays a short, slow tempo riff. Gerard basks in the hint of genuine happiness in Frank’s expression.  
  
“Where do you want me to work?” Frank asks timidly. He looks around the room for a place he can set himself up to write a new song.  
  
“You can have the bed, Pretty. I can sit over there on the floor. Do you need anything else?”  
  
“A pad and a pencil?”  
  
Gerard stands from the bed and walks to his art desk. He fumbles on it for a minute. Finding what he’s looking for, he turns back to Frank with a couple of things in his hands. “I only have art supplies, but this is a new drawing pad. And this tin is filled with pencils of different kinds; you can pick whichever one you like.” Gerard hands the items over to Frank. “I’ll leave you be, Pretty,” Gerard states softly. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Frank’s forehead. Frank stiffens his body at the unwanted reminder of his captive status.  
  
Gerard grabs his own drawing pad and a couple of pencils from the desk. He makes his way to the very corner he had been occupying when Frank had first laid eyes on him. Frank watches him settle into the corner and has a sickening feeling he is going to be the subject of Gerard’s drawing. He tries to push the emotion away and begins quietly playing different chords.  
  
After playing around with several different ideas, Frank begins to feel the melody emerging from the old guitar. He quickly scribbles down the chords and plays them again. He makes a minor change to it and tries it again. Pleased with the new sound, he makes the change on the paper. He can feel Gerard looking at him, so he glances up.  
  
Gerard catches Frank’s eyes for a brief moment before looking back down at his pad. He adds another detail to Frank’s fingers positioned over the frets. For all he tries to stop himself, he keeps stealing glances of Frank. He has a god sitting on his bed. A god is playing his guitar. His god is writing him a song. He listens to the music Frank is playing, the music Frank is writing, as he continues to draw the remarkable scene before him.  
  
Frank slides his eyes closed and plays the chorus of the new song over and over. For now, it’s all he has. He’ll have to get some lyrics written before he can really start writing more. With the comforting feeling of a guitar in his hands, he unintentionally lets his guard down. His mind begins playing him memories of writing his first song sitting on his own bed when he was still just a young teenager and progressing through his early years until he was standing on a stage about to play his first set at the junior prom. Frank looses himself in the recollections, and his hands stop moving.  
  
Gerard picks up on the sudden silence in the room. He looks up to see Frank staring a million miles off. “Pretty?” he calls. Frank’s only movement remains that of his chest rising and falling with his breaths. Gerard stands cautiously and steps closer to Frank. He watches a tear slide down Frank’s cheek. _Gods don’t cry._ Gerard looks at Frank in confusion. “Frankie?” Gerard caresses the back of Frank’s head, under his ear, and down his jaw line as he lifts Frank’s face to his. “Are you okay, Pretty?” Gerard asks in a voice wrought with concern.  
  
Frank flinches as he mentally jumps back to the present. He takes in Gerard’s expression, trying to figure out why Gerard looks anxious. Gerard smiles hesitantly when he realizes Frank’s thoughts are back in the room, and he uses his thumb to wipe the stray tear from Frank’s pale skin.  
  
“Are you okay, Pretty?” Gerard asks again, knowing Frank hears him this time.  
  
 _No! I don’t want to be here! You’re keeping me here against my will!_ But Frank can’t force his mouth the form the words. Instead he settles on, “I just need a break,” as he becomes aware that he has been working on this new song for hours.  
  
“Okay, Pretty. It’s okay. You can have a break,” Gerard rambles, shaking his head. Frank thinks he should take advantage of Gerard being vulnerable, something he’s sure doesn’t happen often to this man, but he’s too emotionally spent to try. “How about that shower now, Frankie?”  
  
“I’d like that, Ge—” Frank catches himself about to make a connection with his captor and snaps his mouth shut. Unfortunately, Gerard catches it, too. He removes the guitar from Frank’s lap and kneels down in front of Frank, taking both of Frank’s hands in his.  
  
“Say my name, Pretty,” he states, but Frank catches the undertones of pleading in his voice. Frank just looks at him for a moment and then looks away towards the floor. Gerard tightens his grip on Frank’s hands, crushing them until Frank tries to pull away in pain. “Say my name, Frankie.” This time, the pleading undertone is gone, replaced by hostility. Frank just continues to try to pull his hands from Gerard’s vice-like grip. Gerard pulls Frank’s hands to his chest, pulling Frank closer to him. “Say it,” he growls.  
  
“No,” Frank breathes. Instantly he regrets it. Gerard’s eyes fill with rage. Gerard jerks Frank up off the bed by his t-shirt.  
  
“I’m going to give you one more chance to say it or I will make you say it,” he snarls with clenches teeth. Frank swallows hard and prepares himself for the pain he knows is about to follow. Gerard realizes Frank isn’t going to speak his name.  
  
He throws Frank to the floor. Before Frank has completely landed on the floor, Gerard’s boot collides with Frank’s ribcage. The air in Frank’s lungs is involuntarily expelled. Frank tries to draw in a jagged breath but is stopped when Gerard kicks him again. And again, and again… until Frank loose count of how many times the worn boot has struck his torso. Frank tries to pull his body into a fetal position to protect his organs from further damage, but Gerard throws himself over Frank, stretching out Frank’s body on the floor.  
  
Frank feels Gerard’s breath on the shell of his ear as he whispers, “Just say it, whisper it, _breathe_ my name, Pretty, and I’ll stop.” Frank only has enough time to draw a ragged breath before Gerard’s fist lands the first of many blows to Frank’s head. Frank doesn’t try to count them; he only tries to focus on his raspy breathing, providing him the knowledge that he’s still alive and still conscious. But with each strike of Gerard’s fist, Frank finds it harder and harder to stay awake. He takes one last shuddery breath and allows the pain in his body and face to consume him.  
  
Gerard feels Frank’s body go limp under him. He pulls his bloody fist back and looks down at Frank’s face. Frank’s eyes are still open and moving just slightly, but even though he’s still technically conscious, Gerard knows Frank is unaware of anything anymore. He straightens himself up to sit on Frank’s hips for a minute, taking account of the damage done. He hadn’t meant to lose control like that; he had just wanted to hear his name slip between Frank’s perfect lips. Gerard pulls Frank’s shirt up and wipes away some of the blood on Frank’s face. Frank lets out a groan that sounds like he’s in agony.  
  
“Let’s get you that shower now, Pretty,” Gerard mutters as if Frank can hear him. He stands from his seated position on Frank’s hips and retrieves some clothes he had bought for Frank, replicas of Frank’s LeATHERMOUTH stage clothes and some boxer briefs, and some clothes for himself from his dresser. He carries it into the bathroom and starts the shower running. He comes back to where Frank is laying half conscious on the floor and undresses him where he lies. Once Frank is fully nude, Gerard strips off his own clothes. He gathers Frank’s broken form in his arms and carries him into the bathroom. He can hear the small, pain-laced sounds Frank emits with every movement of his body.  
  
Gerard settles Frank down into the tub, making sure the shower spray isn’t in Frank's face. Gerard settles himself between Frank’s legs on his knees. He starts gingerly sponging the blood off Frank’s face. Once his face is clean, Gerard is pleased to not find as much damage under all the blood as he expected. But Frank has a gash on his forehead that Gerard is going to have to sew up, something Gerard isn’t looking forward to doing. Then Gerard shampoos the blood out of Frank’s hair.  
  
Gerard decides to allow Frank a reprieve. He stands and shampoos his hair. He adds the conditioner, letting it sit in his hair while he soaps up his own body. His eyes stay trained on Frank, watching for any sign that Frank is coming around. When Frank whimpers slightly louder than he’s been, Gerard quickly rinses himself and his hair. He kneels back down between Frank’s legs and begins soaping Frank up. He gets his arms and armpits washed, moving on to Frank’s chest and stomach.  
  
“Please don’t,” Frank whines weakly. Gerard raises his gaze to see Frank pleading to him with his hazy eyes. Gerard cocks his head sideways a tiny bit and pets Frank’s wet hair.  
  
“I have to clean you up, Pretty. I have to get the blood washed off,” Gerard mutters thoughtfully. In some other place, in some other time, Frank knows he would care that he’s in a shower naked with another naked man—a naked, obsessive psycho who just beat him severely—but he’s really in too much pain to care. He cries silently, waiting for the torture to be over. Gerard continues to look at him. _Gods don’t break._ Gerard swiftly carries on washing Frank.  
  
“It hurts,” Frank moans painfully to himself. Gerard stops moving the sponge over Frank’s skin.  
  
“Are you clean enough, Pretty? Do you want me to get you out now, Frankie?” Frank weakly nods his head. Gerard rinses the soap off Frank and turns the shower off. He dries as much of Frank’s body as he can with Frank still lying in the tub. He wraps the half wet towel around his waist and scoops Frank up. Frank cries out in agony and his breathing rate greatly increases. Gerard carries him to the bed, laying Frank’s broken form on the bed as gently as he can. Gerard leaves Frank on the bed for a moment and gets two white pills and a blue one from the bathroom. He grabs a bottle of water from the small fridge. Gerard takes it back out to Frank.  
  
“Take these, Pretty. They will help.” The sight of the pills tugs at something in Frank’s mind, like a memory Frank should remember. But all Frank knows is that Gerard hasn’t lied to him yet, and Gerard said the pills would help. He swallows the pills with Gerard’s help.  
  
Gerard watches Frank lean back against the pillow and shut his eyes. He goes back into the bathroom. He towels off the water that hasn’t dried already before putting his clothes back on. He picks up the clothes he had gotten out for Frank and takes them back to the bed with him. Frank has quieted some, so Gerard knows the pills have begun to work.  
  
“Pretty, I’m going to put your clothes on.” Frank doesn’t respond except to open his eyes and look up at Gerard. Gerard can’t read the expression in them, so he puts Frank’s clothes on him, trying to move Frank as little as possible. When Gerard tries to sit Frank up some to put his shirt on him, Frank cries out again. Gerard gently lays Frank back down on the bed without the shirt, figuring Frank can put it on in the morning. At least Frank has underwear and pants on.  
  
Gerard tosses the shirt over his dresser and climbs in the bed beside Frank, but he keeps his distance from Frank’s body. He watches Frank’s irregular breathing for a while. Suddenly his stomach growls, and Gerard realizes they never ate dinner. He looks down Frank’s chest and stomach, at all the dark impressions littering it; he doesn’t feel like eating. He looks back to Frank’s face, to more dark places marking Frank’s pale skin. He realizes Frank is crying silently again. He turns off the light and watches the tears escaping Frank’s closed eyes in the moonlight coming in the small window. He intertwines their fingers. Gerard can feel Frank squeeze his hand, so he lightly squeezes it back. Eventually the tears stop falling, and Gerard checks Frank’s breathing. It’s still irregular but not as bad as it was, and Gerard knows Frank is well under the drugs’ effects now. He brings their hands to his mouth, places a kiss on top of Frank’s, and settles them back down between them.  
  
Two thoughts plague Gerard’s mind as he falls asleep: _Gods don’t cry. Gods don’t break._


	4. Day 3

Gerard is woken up by the sounds of moaning. He quickly sits up in the bed and flips the light on. He looks to Frank, knowing Frank should still be well asleep. But he’s not. Frank’s eyes are open, and he’s moaning in utter agony. Gerard didn’t realize until now how badly he had hurt Frank. He pets Frank’s head as soothingly as he can.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Pretty,” he utters over and over. Frank just stares at Gerard, the emotion in his eyes continuously switching from anguish to terror to panic and back. He knows he can’t give Frank more white pills for a while, but Frank needs something now, not hours from now. “I’ve got all kinds of pills, Pretty. I’ll find you something, okay?” Frank barely nods. “I’ll be right back, okay, Pretty?” Again, Frank barely nods.  
  
Frank watches Gerard leave the bed. He knows he’s drugged, but he doesn’t care. For a split second, he wants Gerard to come back. He doesn’t care that Gerard kidnapped him. He doesn’t care that Gerard did this to him. He doesn’t care what Gerard wants with him. He just wants a warm body to comfort him right now, _any_ warm body. The only things that don’t hurt are his legs. He takes as deep of a breath as his bruised ribs will allow and tries to call out for that comfort, “Gerard…” But even in the haze of whatever drugs Gerard has given him, Frank knows it was barely a whimper.  
  
Gerard unlocks the bathroom closet and digs through all the medicine he has in there. He’s been “self medicating” for years, and he knows somewhere in this house he has something he can give Frank to help him right now. But he’s not seeing it in this closet. He closes and locks the closet back up then stand there thinking of what he has upstairs, deciding if it’s worth the risk to open the bedroom door with Frank awake. He heads back into the bedroom.  
  
“Gerard… Gerard… please… Gerard…” Frank is faintly crying from the bed. Gerard sprints to the bed and quickly lies down beside Frank, jostling the bed as little as he can manage. Even though Gerard hates to see Frank like this, he is pleased that Frank is calling his name and begging for him.  
  
“I’m here, Pretty. I’m right here,” he coos. He takes Frank’s hand and places it in the center of his chest. Frank clutches Gerard’s shirt. Gerard sees Frank trying to say something, but Frank can’t seem to get the words out. He finally releases his grip on Gerard’s shirt, but he doesn’t take his hand from Gerard’s chest.  
  
“Please help me, Gerard,” he sobs despite the pain it causes in his chest. Gerard’s breath catches at the desperate way Frank said his name this time, like Frank would say it a million times if Gerard would just take the pain away. This is not what he wanted.  
  
“I’ll fix it, Frankie,” he states, and then he climbs under the bed for his lockbox. Even if Frank wanted to escape, there’s no way he’d even make it up the stairs. Gerard grabs the key for the bedroom padlock and walks around the side of the bed. He leans over Frank, placing a kiss on his lips. Frank doesn’t react. “I have to go upstairs, Pretty. The medicine I need for you is up there. I promise I’ll be back a fast as I can, Pretty.” Frank just closes his eyes.  
  
Gerard dashes out of the bedroom, leaving the door open, and takes the stairs two at a time. He reaches the main level of the house and heads straight for the bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet, looking at all the bottles of stuff he has in there. “This is taking too long,” he mumbles to himself. He grabs a travel bag from under the sink and begins tossing all the bottles into the bag. He sprints back down to the bedroom, stopping dead in his tracks when he enters. Frank’s not in the bed.  
  
He takes another step into the room and hears Frank calling his name just as he lays eyes on him. Frank is laying in the floor, almost in the bathroom. Gerard shuts the bedroom door and locks the padlock. Once at Frank’s side, he cradles him in his kneeling lap.  
  
“Pretty, what are you doing? Why didn’t you wait for me, Pretty?”  
  
“I’m sick,” Frank groans. Gerard looks down at Frank in confusion, stroking the side of his face with his fingertips. “The pain is making me sick.” Gerard understands now.  
  
“Let’s get you in there, Pretty.” Gerard begins to lift Frank up, but Frank’s eyes go wide as his hand covers his mouth. Gerard knows what’s coming, but whispers “It’s okay, Pretty,” anyway. He braces Frank in his arms, and Frank stops holding back, emptying what little he has in his stomach on his and Gerard’s chests. Frank’s head lulls back when he’s done. Gerard kisses Frank’s jaw softly.  
  
“Let’s get us cleaned up, hmm, Pretty?” Gerard asks, but he’s not waiting for a reply. He carries Frank into the bathroom. After carefully squatting while cradling Frank, he gets a bath running. “This will help you feel better, Pretty, until I figure out what medicine to give you.” Gerard lays Frank in the floor, not waiting for permission to begin undressing him. A panicked look crosses Frank’s face, but Gerard assures him, “I’m just getting you in the bath, Pretty. You don’t like being dirty.” He strips Frank’s pants and boxer briefs off and then he settles Frank’s body into the cool water. Gerard turns off the water before heading out to get Frank some clean clothes.  
  
The cool water does soothe Frank’s body just slightly. He tries to relax down into it. He listens to the sounds of Gerard moving around in the bedroom. When Gerard returns, Frank sees that Gerard has changed his clothes while he was in there. But it’s not the black button down shirt with a red tie he has been wearing since Frank first saw him; Gerard’s wearing an old band t-shirt and blue jeans. He watches Gerard toss some clothes and a black bag on the bathroom counter.  
  
Gerard crosses over to the tub and kneels down. “Are you feeling any better now, Pretty?” Frank nods. “Would like some water to drink?”  
  
“Yeah,” Frank breathes. Gerard smiles weakly at Frank. He grabs a bottle of water from the small fridge, cracking it open as he returns to Frank's side. Gerard brings the mouth of the bottle to Frank’s lips. Frank sips the water slowly. When Frank is finished, Gerard recaps the bottle.  
  
“I’m going over there to see what I have I can give you, Pretty,” Gerard mutters as he pets Frank’s head a few times. Not giving Frank a chance to respond, Gerard stands, grabs the black bag, and sits down on the floor, leaning against the cabinets. Frank watches Gerard as he begins taking what Frank can only call a pharmacy out of the black bag one bottle at a time. Gerard carefully inspects each label before he sets the bottle down on the floor in one of two collections. Frank doesn’t know what the two different groups are for.  
  
Frank reaches for the bottle of water and takes another drink. But this bit of water doesn’t settle in his stomach as well. “Gerard?” he calls. Gerard knocks most of the pills bottles over trying to get back to Frank. “I’m going to be sick again,” he chokes out.  
  
“Okay, Pretty,” Gerard reassures him as he lifts Frank out of the tub, soaking his clean clothes in the process, and carries Frank over to the toilet. Frank empties his stomach a second time, but at least it went in the toilet and not all over them both. Gerard wipes Frank’s mouth with a washcloth, and Frank takes in Gerard’s annoyed expression. “I’m sorry,” Frank whimpers. Gerard’s face softens immediately.  
  
“You have nothing to apologize for, Pretty.” Gerard wraps a towel around Frank’s wet body and then pets his head.  
  
“You looked mad, though.” Gerard tries to smile down at Frank. He lets himself sit down on the floor beside Frank, pulling Frank into his lap.  
  
“Not at you, Pretty. Not this time. I’m just not sure what I can give you to help if everything you swallow is going to come right back up is all, Frankie.” Frank nods his head in Gerard’s chest. Frank doesn’t care about the recent past again, nor does he care that Gerard’s hands are on his naked body; Gerard’s body is comforting for him to lean against right now. They sit cuddled up together in the bathroom floor for a short time while Gerard rocks Frank back and forth and mentally goes through the drugs he can think of that he has. Gerard stops rocking Frank as he thinks of something.  
  
“I can fix you, Pretty,” Gerard breathes to Frank. Frank whimpers as Gerard stands with him in his arms. Gerard shushes him gently as he carries Frank to the bed and lays him down. With what energy he got from the cool bath, Frank turns his face slightly as Gerard tries to kiss his lips again, the kiss landing on Frank’s cheek instead. Gerard doesn’t seem to notice or care, and he sprints back into the bathroom.  
  
Gerard digs for what he knows he has in the black bag somewhere. He’d had the stomach flu about a year ago, and his dealer had gotten it for him specifically to hold off DT’s. He finds the bottle he’s looking for and pulls open one of the small packages inside. Frank watches Gerard come back into the bedroom with a determined look on his face. Gerard grabs something out of the nightstand drawer and climbs onto the bed beside Frank. Frank can’t breathe when he sees that a bottle of lube is what Gerard pulled out of the drawer. He steels himself for what’s to come, knowing whether he fights or not that it’s going to just bring on more pain.  
  
“This will make you feel better, Pretty,” Gerard states as he tries to roll Frank to his side. Frank tries to fight him.  
  
“No, Gerard. Please,” he begs. Gerard gives Frank a confused look.  
  
“I promise it will help, Pretty.” Frank really wishes he wasn’t naked right now, that he hadn’t vomited on them both and ended up needing a bath. He feels Gerard forcefully roll him and Gerard’s hand on his ass. Before he can protest again, he feels Gerard’s finger push into his asshole and quickly slide back out. Frank’s injured body is protesting him keeping all his muscles tightened, so Frank resigns to let Gerard do whatever he’s going to do. To his astonishment, Gerard rolls him back onto his back. He places one hand on Frank’s opposite cheek as he kisses the side of Frank’s face closest to him. Then Gerard covers him before walking back into the bathroom. Frank hears water running. It cuts off, and Gerard walks back into the bedroom.  
  
Afraid to ask, Frank does anyway. “What did you just do?” Frank becomes aware that he’s feeling self conscious when he can’t look at Gerard. Gerard lies down beside Frank, propping himself up slightly on his elbow. He places his other hand on Frank’s forearm.  
  
“I gave you morphine, Pretty.” Gerard’s hand softly strokes Frank arm. “It’ll only take it about fifteen minutes to start working.” Frank forces his gaze off the ceiling and back to Gerard. Gerard is looking at Frank like he’s completely in love with him, unsettling Frank just a bit.  
  
“In my ass?” Frank’s face flushes with his embarrassment at the subject matter.  
  
“It’s a suppository, Pretty. That’s where it goes.” Frank grunts as a fresh wave of pain washes over him. Gerard keeps talking, trying to keep Frank distracted until the morphine can work. “I needed it about a year ago when I couldn’t keep anything down because of a bad stomach bug.” Frank looks at him like he’s actually listening, although Gerard knows he’s probably not. He doesn’t think when he keeps going. “My dealer brought them to me. I needed something to stave off withdrawals because the lack of drugs was just making me sicker.”  
  
Frank tries to smile at Gerard, but it’s lost in the expression of pain he’s wearing. “So you’re an addict?” Gerard’s face changes, and Frank fears he’s said the wrong thing. “I-I don’t have anything against it; I was just ask—”  
  
Gerard cuts him off. “Recovering addict, actually. I’m eleven months clean. And I owe it to you, Pretty. When I thought I couldn’t do it, that I couldn’t get clean, I’d think about wanting to see you on that stage again, see you sing and perform for me again, and you’d pull me through, Frankie.”  
  
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Frank mutters. “I didn’t do anything. You did that.” Gerard looks back down at Frank from where his gaze had wondered. Frank can see his words had some effect on Gerard. “May I ask why you quit to start with?”  
  
Gerard chuckles slightly. “Morphine suppositories.” Frank tries to laugh at the irony, but it sends a sharp pain through his chest, causing his laugh to turn into a whimper. Gerard looks concerned before Frank motions for him to continue. “When you’re shoving those things up your own ass because you’re really _that_ desperate, it’s humiliating and pathetic. I just didn’t want to be that way anymore.”  
  
“Good for you,” Frank breathes and then just lays still and quiet for a while. He’s feeling some relief, but he’s still in a good deal of pain. He knows what he wants, but he’s too embarrassed to ask. His cheeks blush, and Gerard notices.  
  
“What’s wrong, Pretty?” Gerard pets Frank’s hair again. Frank’s blushed skin only grows darker. “It’s okay, Pretty. You can say whatever it is. Are you still hurting?”  
  
Frank nods weakly. “Do you have any more of that morphine?” he asks quietly.  
  
“Of course, Pretty,” Gerard states just a quietly as he presses a kiss to Frank’s forehead. “I’ll be right back, Frankie.” Gerard disappears in the bathroom for only a few seconds before returning to the bed. “Are you going to fight me this time?” he asks in jest. In reply, Frank rolls himself onto his side. Frank completely understands Gerard’s humiliation, but it really helps the pain. He feels Gerard shift his leg slightly and then Gerard’s finger push into him again. Just like before, Gerard is fast to withdraw it and cover Frank back up. “But two is your limit, Pretty. You can’t have more for at least four hours,” Gerard half jokes as Frank rolls back over.  
  
Gerard washes his hand in the bathroom again. He breathes for a few minutes, reveling in Frank’s change in demeanor today. He can hear Frank’s voice say his name over and over in his head. He smiles to his reflection in the mirror as he hopes this is a new beginning for them. He walks back into the bedroom to find Frank sleeping what appears to be comfortably. He climbs in beside Frank, resting his arm over Frank’s waist. He allows himself to doze off, too.  
  
But his nap doesn’t last for long. He is again awakened by Frank making noises. Fear clenches his chest as he thinks Frank is in severe pain again. But something about these sounds is different. Gerard listens a little more, watching Frank’s face. Frank’s body suddenly moves, and Gerard looks away from Frank's face and down his body. Frank is hard and just barely bucking his hips. The moans Frank is emitting are not in pain, but in arousal. Gerard looks back to Frank’s face, thinking he might be awake, but Frank is still asleep.  
  
Gerard’s hand slides down Frank’s stomach over the covers and over Frank’s hard dick. He just allows his hand to rest there for a moment. When Frank remains asleep, Gerard begins rubbing lightly over it. Frank’s back arches just slightly, and Gerard feels himself growing hard also. He slips his hand under the sheets and wraps his fingers around Frank’s member. A low sound slides past Frank’s lips as Gerard begins stroking Frank. Not sure that he wants Frank to wake just yet, Gerard removes his hand and quickly undresses himself, grabbing the lube from the nightstand after he’s completely bare. Slowly and tenderly, Gerard slides his body over Frank’s. Frank’s hips slightly buck as Gerard presses their hips together. Gerard nuzzles his face into Frank’s neck and kisses the scorpion he has there.  
  
Frank opens his neck up a little more and moans in a sleepy voice, “What are you doing?” Gerard grins that Frank isn’t freaking out.  
  
He places his lips to Frank’s ear and whispers, “I’m showing you how much I love you, Pretty.” For a moment, Frank’s body writhes under Gerard before going still again. Gerard can’t hold himself back any longer. He spreads some lube on his own dick and lines himself up to enter Frank. He pushes in just slightly, and Frank grimaces in discomfort. Gerard pets Frank’s hair and kisses his neck again. Frank’s body seems to relax, so Gerard pushes into Frank further. Slowly Frank’s eyes crack open. He looks up at Gerard and grinds his dick into Gerard's abdomen.  
  
“I love you, Pretty,” Gerard breathes. Frank just hums in reply. Gerard presses the last bit of his length into Frank. Suddenly Frank’s eyes grow wide. Frank realizes this not a dream like he thought, but reality. His kidnapper, his captor, his abuser is having sex with him.  
  
“Gerard,” he calls out. Gerard can hear the change in Frank’s tone. He pets Frank’s hair, prepared to convince Frank to let him continue. But quickly all the drugs in Frank’s system cloud his mind over again. Frank can only hold onto one thought, so he says it aloud, “Please don’t hurt me again.” Gerard presses his body closer to Frank’s, kissing Frank’s neck again before replying.  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you right now, Pretty.” Frank hums again before slipping back off into the ecstasy of the drugs’ effects. Gerard pulls out of Frank some and pushes back in. Frank hardly responds, so Gerard starts a gentle pace of thrusts into Frank. He brings his lips to Frank’s ear again and breathes, “I wish you could love me back, Pretty, but gods can’t love mortals.” Gerard pulls his face back to look at Frank. He dares to kiss Frank’s lips. To his surprise, Frank’s lips respond just slightly. As Gerard breaks the short kiss, Frank opens his eyes a small ways, looking up at Gerard. Euphoria grows in Gerard’s chest.  
  
“I don’t love you, Gerard,” Frank murmurs. Gerard stops the motions of his hips for a moment to press another kiss to Frank’s lips while wrapping his body around Frank’s in a modified hug.  
  
“I know, Pretty. It’s okay.” Frank’s breathing catches, and he grinds his dick into Gerard’s body again. Gerard moans deeply and begins a faster pace, still trying to be somewhat gentle with Frank; he’s fairly certain Frank has never been on the receiving end of gay sex before. Gerard wraps his hand around Frank’s dick again. He pumps Frank in sync with his own thrusts, occasionally planting kisses on Frank’s body. Frank’s back arches again, and Gerard brings his lips to Frank’s again, letting them linger together longer than previously. Frank doesn’t protest, so Gerard runs his tongue over Frank’s lower lip.  
  
“No,” Frank breathes as he turns his face away from Gerard’s. Gerard takes his mouth to Frank’s jawline. Frank’s body writhes under Gerard’s again, and Gerard raises his head to look at Frank. Instead of the blissful expression Gerard is hoping to see, Frank’s face is painted with distress.  
  
Frank is in the throes of a fully lucid moment, and he’s horrified of what’s happening, especially within his own body. He can hear Gerard murmuring something to him, but all he can focus on is the sensation building in his lower abdomen. Frank throws his hand over Gerard’s that’s pumping his dick. Gerard smiles down at Frank, and Frank knows Gerard has misinterpreted his action. But it’s too late now anyway. Frank releases over both of their hands. His whole body shudders as his brain dumps massive amounts of more endorphins into his body. Frank feels his mind slipping off again and knows he is powerless to stop it. His hands slips off Gerard’s and lands on the bed beside him.  
  
Gerard is completely unaware of Frank’s horror. Gerard continues pushing into Frank, close to his own peak. He removes his hand from between their bodies and presses their chests close together. One of his hands wedges itself behinds Frank’s head while the other interlaces his fingers with Frank’s.  
  
He nuzzles his face into Frank’s neck and breathes against Frank’s skin, “You are so perfect, Pretty. I love you so much it hurts, Frankie.” Gerard pushes into Frank a few more times before reaching his own climax. He holds Frank close as he falls over the edge, his lips brushing against Frank’s cheek. After gathering himself back together a little, Gerard pulls out of Frank and slides down beside him, nestling his body into Frank’s side.  
  
He lies beside Frank, basking in the warmth of Frank’s skin against his and just letting his hand roam Frank’s naked body until the sun begins to set. Frank lets out a soft whimper. Gerard untangles his body from Frank’s and turns on the light to check on him. Frank’s face is contorted in pain. Gerard checks the time; it’s been almost five hours since Frank has had any medication, so Gerard retrieves two suppositories from the bathroom.  
  
He reenters the bedroom and grabs the lube off the nightstand. As he rolls Frank onto his side, Frank stirs just a bit. Gerard rubs his side and shushes him gently. Once Frank settles back down, Gerard pushes the two bits of morphine into Frank’s body and rolls him back over. He snuggles back into Frank’s side, his hand lightly stroking the inside of Frank’s thigh.  
  
He waits about forty five minutes, allowing plenty of time for Frank’s body to completely absorb the drugs, before he tries to rouse Frank. Frank’s eyes struggle to open.  
  
“Pretty, let’s take you to the bathroom before we settle in for the night.” Frank grunts, but his head nods in an uncoordinated fashion. Gerard collects Frank’s limp body from the bed and carries him to the toilet. When he sets Frank down on it, Frank’s head hangs in front of his chest. Gerard rouses Frank again. Frank lifts his head and looks directly at Gerard.  
  
“Take a piss, Pretty,” Gerard mutters to Frank. Frank appears to think for a moment, and then Gerard hears him urinating. “Very good, Pretty.” Frank grins sloppily at Gerard. Gerard carries Frank back to the bed and goes back into the bathroom. He relieves his own bladder and then collects two white pills and a bottle of water. He returns to Frank’s side.  
  
“Pretty, you need to take these,” he tells Frank. Frank mutters an incoherent sentence and then opens his mouth. Gerard feeds Frank the pills and helps him wash them down with the water. Within minutes, Frank is soundly sleeping again. Gerard cuts out the light and intertwines their still naked bodies together again.  
  
“I love you, Pretty,” he breathes before falling asleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRANK IS NOT EXPERIENCING STOCKHOLM SYNDROME!!
> 
> I actually know what happened in this chapter, like from a physiological standpoint (I was a nursing student for a while.), but it's not in the chapter. (If you want to know the details, just ask me in a comment; I'm happy to explain it to you!) Just know that please while you wait for the next chapter.


	5. Day 4

Gerard awakes with a start. The early rays of sunlight are beginning to shine into the window, and he knows Frank should be waking soon. And they are both still naked. He has overslept. Gerard quickly throws on the clothes he had been wearing yesterday, the band t-shirt and the jeans, and then grabs the clothes he had gotten out for Frank to wear that had never actually made it onto Frank’s body. He gets Frank’s boxer briefs and jeans on him and starts to wrestle the white t-shirt over Frank’s head. Frank whimpers slightly but doesn’t really stir when Gerard lifts him to pull the shirt down. Gerard really doesn’t want Frank to wake in pain again this morning, so he dashes into the bathroom and grabs the bottle containing the morphine suppositories. Thinking Frank didn’t seem to be in too much pain, he only grabs one out the bottle.  
  
Gerard quickly crosses through the bedroom and climbs onto the bed beside Frank. He rolls Frank and slides Frank’s jeans and underwear down just enough to do what he needs to do. As he administers the dosage of morphine to Frank, Frank stirs. Gerard knows because before he can withdraw his finger, Frank’s body goes rigid.  
  
Frank is awakened by the feeling of something in his ass. The memory of this exact same sensation yesterday slams into the forefront of his brain immediately, and he knows Gerard’s finger is in him again. While that in and of itself cause Frank to panic some, it’s not the worst of it. Frank recalls the vivid dream he had about Gerard making love to him, and he can only assume it was a combination of the drugs and the way Gerard gave them to him that produced such a terrifying nightmare.  
  
“No more drugs,” he groans. When he feels the lingering pain his body, he adds “At least not _these_ drugs.”  
  
“Okay, Pretty. But could you maybe relax so I can have my finger back?” Frank doesn’t like that Gerard sounds really amused. Gerard’s not actually amused by this; he’s just fondly remembering having his dick in Frank last night. But he’s sure Frank is sore this morning, so he would rather Frank relax his sphincter than to just pull his finger out with Frank so clenched down. Frank doesn’t respond in any way. “Pretty, I don’t want to hurt you. Please, just relax for just one second, and I’ll be done.” He hears Frank exhale heavily before Frank’s body seems to loosen up. In a single swift motion, Gerard regains possession of his middle finger and pulls Frank’s clothes back up over him. He reaches to button and zip Frank’s jeans, but Frank is already fumbling at trying to do it.  
  
“I’ll do that for you, Pretty.” Frank throws Gerard a glare that causes Gerard to withdraw his hands from Frank’s personal space.  
  
“I can do it for myself,” Frank mutters coldly. Gerard watches Frank struggle to get his jeans fastened while still pretty well under the effects of the white pills. The silence in the room is broken when Frank speaks again, “One or two?” Gerard gives Frank an unknowing look and begins to open his mouth to ask what Frank means before Frank cuts him off. “Of those… those…” Frank can’t make himself say the word suppositories. “…doses of morphine. Did you give me one or two?”  
  
“Just one, Pretty.” Frank sighs just slightly with relief; he really didn’t want to be so out of it today. He lays back into the bed, and Gerard watches him in awkward silence for a minute. “Are you okay, Pretty?” Gerard has noticed Frank’s agitation this morning. And the fact that Frank has yet to say his name.  
  
“I’m hungry. I’m in pain. I remember very little about yesterday, and what I do remember is really hazy. And I wake up this morning to find… to find you with your finger… you _drugging_ me again. How am I supposed to be okay?” Frank angrily retorts. Gerard drops his gaze to his lap, his teeth pulling viciously at his lower lip. Once Frank realizes what he just said and how he just said it, panic fills his gut. He flinches when Gerard quickly looks back up at him, expecting some sort of pain or punishment for the outburst. Frank’s not sure how to react when Gerard appears almost broken, barely whispering his reply.  
  
“I’ll fix you some breakfast, Pretty.” Frank watches Gerard walking into the bathroom with his head down, wondering what exactly happened yesterday.  
  
Gerard starts some coffee brewing, and then he locates the instant oatmeal and begins to prepare two bowls of it. While it’s cooking in the microwave, he takes two bananas off the shelf and begins slicing them up. He’s confused; Frank wasn’t exactly affectionate yesterday, but he was much more amicable than he’s being this morning at least. He steps over and unlocks the closet. Frank said he was still in pain, so Gerard wonders if maybe that’s the problem. Gerard locates the bottle with the blues pills in it; they aren’t exactly pain relievers, but they will help Frank relax. He slides the bottle into his jeans pocket and walks back over to the kitchenette. He stirs the banana slices into oatmeal and pours two cups of black coffee. He carefully carries it all back into the bedroom.  
  
Frank sits on the bed strumming Gerard’s guitar so softly that Gerard doesn’t hear it until he enters the bedroom again. He stands still right past the bathroom door for a moment to listen to the quiet music. Frank suddenly looks up at him and goes completely still.  
  
“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t ask permission first,” Frank states as he begins to place the guitar back in its case. Gerard walks on over to the bed and places their breakfast down.  
  
“You can play it anytime you feel like it, Pretty.” Gerard offers Frank a weak smile before casting his eyes back down from Frank’s. Frank briefly wonders if this is the same man that had beaten him nearly unconscious just two days ago. Frank eyes the bowls of oatmeal, his stomach begging him to eat them both.  
  
“May I—”  
  
“Please, Pretty,” Gerard cuts him off, handing Frank one of the bowls and a cup of coffee. “Since you weren’t able to hold anything down yesterday, I thought oatmeal would be easy on your stomach this morning.” Frank watches Gerard slowly stir the oatmeal around his bowl while Frank eats all he was given quickly. He sets the empty bowl back down, and Gerard looks up at him.  
  
“Do you want more?” Gerard asks as he offers Frank his bowl that he has yet to take a bite from. Frank still can detect Gerard’s oddly demure demeanor. He doesn’t want to show any emotion towards his captor, but he think he might be able to use this to his advantage somehow… if he can just figure out the how. He decides to chance making a connection with Gerard.  
  
“Did you eat yesterday?” he asks softly. He’s taken aback by the gleam of hope in Gerard’s eyes as he looks up at Frank, but it is quickly lost. Gerard just shakes his head, never taking his sad eyes off Frank’s. “You should eat it then. You need to eat, too.” Gerard takes the bowl he’s still holding out towards Frank back and takes a bite of it finally. Frank watches Gerard eat slowly while Frank sips his coffee. “What happened yesterday?” Frank asks, surprising them both with his bold question.  
  
Gerard’s eyes jerk upwards to meet Frank’s. “You were hurt and sick, Pretty, so I took care of you,” Gerard utters nearly apathetically, but Frank can tell Gerard is holding back his emotions. Gerard looks back down at his oatmeal. After a moment he adds to himself in a voice softer than a breath, “…and you called my name,” but Frank hears him. Suddenly Gerard’s behavior makes sense to Frank, even if he doesn’t know all the events of yesterday. Frank knows he gets happy and opens up when he’s drunk or high, and he was definitely stoned out of his mind yesterday. And he gave Gerard something Gerard wanted yesterday. Today he had taken whatever that something was back. Frank suspects that something was simply calling Gerard by name.  
  
Gerard’s voice breaks Frank’s train of thought. “Would you like more oatmeal, Pretty?” Frank looks up to find Gerard trying to look at him but unable to hold the gaze longer than a second at a time.  
  
Frank ignores his conscience telling him to not connect any further and not say this, but he pushes the feeling away. “I would like that, Gerard.” Gerard smiles a little at Frank, finally able to hold Frank’s gaze, and Frank wonders if the man is on the verge of tears. Gerard stands much taller as he walks towards the bathroom this time.  
  
Frank said his name again; that’s all Gerard can think. He starts Frank another bowl of oatmeal cooking and then pulls the pills out of his pocket. He looks at the bottle as he turns it over and over in his hands. Frank may have said his name again, but it wasn’t spoken as freely as it was yesterday. Gerard sets the pills on the counter of the kitchenette and walks back out into the bedroom. Frank is laid back in the bed with his eyes closed. Gerard believes the morphine has begun to work for Frank. Without asking, he leans down and presses a kiss to Frank’s forehead before picking up Frank’s empty coffee cup. Frank opens his eyes and pulls his head and body away from Gerard. But Gerard is already heading back into the bathroom.  
  
Gerard pours Frank more coffee, stirring in two blue pills. He slices another banana and adds it to the oatmeal. He stirs the coffee once more to make sure the pills are well dissolved before taking it back into the bedroom to Frank. Frank is still lying on the bed, but he has his eyes open now. When he sees Gerard coming back, he sits up. Frank takes the bowl and coffee from Gerard. He takes a sip of the coffee before setting it down.  
  
Gerard hides a kiss in Frank’s hair, and Frank hears him breathe, “I’m so glad you feel better today, Pretty. I don’t like hurting you.” Frank pretends he didn’t hear the words Gerard told the top of his head. Gerard and Frank finish eating about the same time. Gerard takes the dishes back into the bathroom, and then he comes back and starts gathering clean clothes out of the drawers. Frank has noticed the clothes he’s been wearing aren’t his, but now Gerard is pulling more clothes out of a drawer that are identical.  
  
“Gerard, where did you get the clothes I’m wearing?” Gerard glances over his shoulder and then continues digging through the drawers before replying.  
  
“I bought them for you. I know you like to be clean, and that requires clean clothes.” Gerard shuts the drawers, turning back to face Frank. “Speaking of being clean, you haven’t had a proper shower since… well, in days. Would you like one?”  
  
“But how did you know what size to buy me?” Frank has a feeling he already knows— Gerard is more than _just_ a fan—but he doesn’t want to believe it. Believing that means Frank has to admit to himself just what sort of danger he is really in.  
  
“I guessed,” Gerard states, trying to brush the question off. “Would you like a shower, Pretty?”  
  
Frank is still questioning in his mind how Gerard managed to get clothes that fit him so well, but he nods his head and stands up from the bed. His head feels sort of odd, but he assumes he just got up from the bed too quickly with the morphine in his system. He tries to take the clothes from Gerard, but Gerard won’t let him have them.  
  
“I’ve got them, Pretty. Let’s go in the bathroom.” Frank doesn’t move. He’s been in that bathroom naked with Gerard once before, that he knows of, and he’s not willing to do it again. But he’s not sure how to tell Gerard he’s showering alone without making the man angry. “Come on, Pretty,” Gerard encourages Frank as he grips Frank’s arm and begins nearly dragging Frank towards the bathroom.  
  
“I’m not showering with you,” Frank finally convinces himself to say. Gerard is instantly facing him. Frank can’t read his expression, but he’s pretty sure Gerard’s not happy. When Gerard speaks, Frank is certain of it.  
  
“You’re getting a shower, Pretty, one way or another.” Gerard voice is nearly malicious. Frank instinctively takes a step back, panic overtaking him, but Gerard follows closely as if their bodies are attached. “You need a good shower, Pretty,” Gerard nearly growls.  
  
“I am capable of doing that alone,” Frank mutters. Gerard’s eyes narrow, and Frank flinches when Gerard jerks Frank’s shirt off over his head. Gerard picks Frank up by his battered ribcage like a mother would a child. Frank whimpers at the pain that seizes his chest. Before Frank knows what’s happening, he’s on the bed, and Gerard is binding Frank’s wrists together with tape again. Frank’s breath nearly catches at the thought of being put in the antique refrigerator again. He begs, “Please, Gerard. Not the refrigerator again. P-please!”  
  
Gerard doesn’t respond to Frank’s pleading. He picks Frank up, and Frank is only barely grateful when he realizes Gerard is walking the opposite direction of the decrepit appliance. But he knows that means they are heading towards the bathroom.  
  
Gerard sets Frank on his feet in the tub, quickly grabbing his arms and hanging Frank by his bound wrists from a metal hook of some sort. Frank’s feet barely lay flush on the tub bottom, very little of his weight actually resting on them, and his back is against the cold tile of the shower wall. The positioning of his body is pulling on Frank’s beaten torso. Frank struggles to breathe well, but he can breathe enough to maintain consciousness. Frank feels Gerard’s hand on his waist, and he looks down to find Gerard forcefully stripping his clothes off. He rests his head against the shower tiles as Gerard tosses Frank’s jeans and underwear haphazardly across the bathroom.  
  
Gerard turns the shower on, and Frank can feel the cold water raining down on his feet. It’s fast to warm up, though. Gerard quickly pulls his own clothes off before he climbs into the shower with Frank. Frank’s eyes are wide in terror as he hangs against the cold shower tiles watching Gerard in the shower. Gerard goes about washing himself and his hair as if he doesn’t have a captive rock star literally hanging in his shower. He occasionally makes eye contact with Frank, half cocking a smile when he does. He rinses himself and steps over to Frank.  
  
Gerard brushes his fingertips from Frank’s collarbone to his breastbone and then all the way down Frank’s stomach. Frank tries to draw his stomach in away from Gerard’s fingertips as they continue lower, running down between his swallows and over the vertical line of dark hair leading to his slightly denser patch that resides over his dick. Frank whimpers, unable to break the contact, and his breath catches in his chest as Gerard presses his palm where his fingertips stopped.  
  
“Please! Don’t… don’t do this, Gerard!” he whines. Gerard looks up from his hand to meet Frank’s gaze. Frank shudders at the lust in Gerard’s eyes.  
  
“You have the most… beautiful body… I have ever seen, Pretty,” Gerard murmurs. His eyes trace down Frank’s chest, stomach, all the way down to his hand, and then back up, barely looking at Frank’s face from under his eyebrows. “Let’s get you washed, Frankie.” Frank’s stomach constricts and forces bile into his throat at the seductive tone in Gerard’s voice. He struggles to swallow it back down.  
  
Gerard starts by giving Frank a quick shave, murmuring words to himself about Frank’s baby face. Once done, he wipes Frank’s jaw clean and begins lathering Frank’s skin… his arms, his shoulders, his chest. He passes over Frank’s dick and continues on down his legs to Frank’s feet, lifting them one at a time to wash them. Frank closes his eyes and tries to breathe as deeply as he can. He feels Gerard’s hands on his hips, and then he’s turned so his chest is now pressed against the wall, twisting his arms painfully together. Gerard works his way back up Frank’s body, again skipping Frank’s midsection. Frank wants to sigh in relief, but he somehow knows this isn’t over. And he’s right.  
  
“No,” he whimpers into the wall as he feels Gerard’s hands on his ass. One of Gerard’s hands slides down the length between his ass cheeks, and Frank can’t stop a sharp gasp when he feels one of Gerard’s fingertips press and rub firmly over his entrance. Gerard’s chest presses against Frank’s back as his hand skims its way over Frank’s hip to lay over one of his swallows. His other hand ghosts it way up Frank’s chest to rest over his collarbone. Frank is painfully aware of Gerard’s hard dick pressing over his ass crack. “I want to take you right here, Pretty, but I can’t,” Gerard breathes into the jack-o-lantern tattoo on Frank’s back. Frank chokes back a sob as Gerard makes his intentions known in words.  
  
Gerard turns Frank back to face him, Frank’s skin sliding across Gerard’s as he’s turned. Gerard’s gaze takes in all of Frank’s features before lingering on his lips. Frank presses his head against the wall, trying desperately to get some space between their faces, their mouths. Frank’s entire body shudders as he feels both of Gerard’s hands simultaneously run down the creases of his legs, brushing against his scrotum on both sides. Gerard hunches down slightly to get all the way between Frank’s legs. He pulls one hand back out and places it low on Frank’s abdomen while his other hand cups Frank’s balls.  
  
Frank sobs, drawing all of his words out, “Please, Gerard. No.” Gerard stands fully upright again, the hand on Frank’s testicles relocating itself over Frank’s still limp dick. Gerard’s fingertips thoughtlessly caress the head of Frank’s dick.  
  
“But you were so eager last night, Pretty, writhing and moaning and thrusting up against me. I just want to show you my love for you again, Frankie,” Gerard utters with even more seduction. Frank’s lungs have completely seized up with the knowledge that his nightmare is really a memory, and he knows if he could draw a breath, he’d have a panic attack. Gerard presses his lips over Frank’s trembling ones, and Frank is unable to move away, his head trapped between his arms he’s hanging from. Gerard finally breaks the kiss. “Please, Pretty? Let me love you… _make love_ to you again, Frankie?” Gerard breathes into Frank’s gasping mouth as Gerard presses his hips into Frank’s.  
  
“Never,” Frank chokes out as a whimper. Gerard steps back a half step, putting a small space between their bodies. Frank allows his eyes to slip shut, a tiny relief allowing him to breathe in slightly longer gasps. But only for a moment.  
  
Gerard jumps out the shower, turning off the water without bothering to rinse the soap off Frank or towel either of them off. He grabs his key out of his jeans pocket and opens the closet door. He immediately finds what he’s looking for right in the front. He slams the closet shut again, not bothering to lock it up. He steps back into the shower long enough to lift Frank off the hook. Gerard storms out of the bathroom into the bedroom and throws Frank on the bed facedown. Frank yelps as his hands are harshly driven into his groin. He can feel the movement of Gerard’s body pinning him down to the bed. He feels Gerard’s hand on his ass. A scream tries to lodge itself in his throat, but he forces it out.  
  
“NO! PLEASE STO—” but his scream is cut off as he feels the sting of Gerard pushing his finger into him dry. Gerard quickly withdraws his finger. Frank tries to take a shaky breath to scream again, but he’s unable to do so before there is a second sting in his ass of Gerard pushing into Frank and withdrawing again. Frank allows himself to sob hysterically. He knows what just happened, and he knows that he can’t fight off the effects of two additional morphine suppositories on top of the one in his system now and that he’s going to be raped again. Frank is almost resigned to just let the drugs take him over and zone him out until Gerard pulls up him off the bed again. Frank doesn’t like the determined expression he catches on Gerard’s face as he’s picked up.  
  
“NO! NO! STOP, GERARD, _PLEASE_!! NO! DON’T!” Frank screams as he violently kicks his feet, trying as best he can to make contact with any part of Gerard’s body. He successfully lands a forceful kick to Gerard’s shin, and Gerard drops him. Frank lands with a sickeningly hard thud on the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Gerard straddles Frank’s waist, and Frank sees Gerard draw his fist up. Frank knows he’d rather be beaten again than end up in the archaic appliance that was Gerard’s destination. Frank squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the blow. When it never comes, he looks up at Gerard. Gerard is looking back down at him, his fist tightening and loosening repeated.  
  
Gerard uncurls his fist finally, bringing his hand down to brush over Frank’s cheeks. Frank recoils away from the touch. “I’m not going to hit you, Pretty. That’s not love. But I need to be away from you for a little while, Pretty. I’m not going to hurt you, and I promise I’m not going to let you die, Frankie, but I’m locking you up in there.” Frank hears the struggle in Gerard’s voice, but he could care less about Gerard right now; he’s NOT going back into that refrigerator if he can help it.  
  
“Please, Gerard,” Frank pleads, trying to hold back his sobs. “I’ll sit in the bathroom. I’ll be quiet. I won’t make a sound. I won’t even move.” A sob rips itself out of Frank’s throat. “Please, just don’t put me in there, Gerard, please.” Gerard tries to stroke Frank’s face again, and Frank doesn’t pull away this time. Frank watches Gerard force a sympathetic expression before he presses a kiss to Frank’s forehead.  
  
“I have to, Pretty. But I promise you—I swear on my life—this will all be okay eventually, Pretty.” Gerard pets Frank’s head as tears continue streaming down Frank’s flushed cheeks and into Frank’s hair.  
  
“No, no, no, no…” Frank cries over and over. Gerard climbs off Frank’s body and scoops him up off the floor. Frank writhes his body as much as he can, doing what he can to fight, but Gerard’s grasp is too strong. Gerard pushes Frank into the old appliance. Frank locks his knees to keep Gerard from folding him into it. Gerard looks sadly at Frank.  
  
“I love you, Pretty. But this is the best thing to do, though,” Gerard states softly before he pops Frank in his ribs just hard enough to stop Frank’s resisting and quickly get the door shut. For a moment, Gerard just leans his back against the fridge door. He can hear that Frank has caught his breath and is screaming again. He quickly turns and clicks the padlock closed.  
  
Gerard climbs onto the bed, curling up on the side of the bed that Frank has been sleeping on. He settles into Frank’s pillow and finally lets his emotions out. He takes a shuddery breath as he begins to cry. He doesn’t want to do this to Frank, to hurt Frank again, but he knows he has to do this. Frank will eventually settle in; he’ll get adjusted to living here with Gerard. Frank will learn to accept Gerard’s acts of love willingly. Gerard just has to show him it’s not that bad, keep Frank in line until he can learn. But it’s killing Gerard to treat Frank like this.  
  
Gerard can still hear Frank screaming in the refrigerator. For every sob Frank chokes out, Gerard lets out a reciprocating one. He grabs his own pillow and presses it over his head, trying to block out Frank’s voice. Gerard thinks there has to be another way. He knows Frank can never love him back, as Gerard’s not a god like Frank, but surely with enough time, Frank would just come around on his own. It would take longer—much longer—but then, at least, Gerard wouldn’t have to hurt Frank like this, to feel the pain and guilt of having to do this to Frank, to his god. Gerard keeps his head buried in the pillows, letting his thoughts run for a while.  
  
Gerard notices it’s quiet in the room; Frank has stopped screaming. He realizes it’s been quiet for some time, and panic fills him. He jumps up from the bed and dashes for the refrigerator. He fumbles with the key, his shaky hands hardly able to function. He throws open the door of the old appliance. Frank’s only movements are of his chest very slowly rising and falling, but relief surges through Gerard that Frank’s still alive. Gerard reaches out his trembling hand to pet Frank’s head for just a moment before he pulls Frank out. As Gerard touches Frank’s head, Frank’s eyes crack open, and he looks up at Gerard.  
  
“Please let me out, Gerard,” Frank slurs with his hoarse voice.  
  
“I’m getting you out now, Pretty. Right now,” Gerard replies softly as he gently lifts Frank out. Frank’s body is limp in Gerard’s arms, Frank’s head dangling listlessly over Gerard’s arm. Gerard carefully lays Frank on the bed.  
  
Gerard lowers his body over Frank’s. Frank giggles just slightly, only understanding the comforting sensation of a warm body pressed into his through the euphoria of the narcotics overdose. Gerard smiles down at Frank, intimately stroking Frank’s cheek and petting his head.  
  
“Eventually you’ll willingly let me do this, won’t you, Pretty?” Gerard murmurs. Frank giggles again. Gerard can’t help but chuckle back. “I thought so, Pretty.” Gerard presses his lips over Frank’s, slowly deepening the kiss until he pushes his tongue past Frank’s teeth. Frank doesn’t deny Gerard entry, so Gerard kisses Frank with all the love he has. He separates their mouths and leaves a trail of kisses down Frank’s body until he reaches the patch of dark hair over Frank’s pubic bone. Gerard’s tongue licks over the head of Frank’s flaccid dick, a soft moan coming from Frank as he does. A hint of a smile pulls at Gerard’s lips before he sucks Frank’s member into his mouth. After a while, Gerard finally achieves his goal, getting Frank hard. But he’s been where Frank is now and knows that the likelihood of Frank staying that way or making it to orgasm is small; Frank’s body is too relaxed to maintain his erection.  
  
Gerard settles himself between Frank’s legs, spreading them apart further as he does. Gerard looks back down to Frank to find Frank looking back up at him, his head slightly cocked to the side. Frank’s eyes flutter shut, and he grinds his dick up into Gerard. Gerard almost believes that Frank completely understands what is going on and is enjoying it.  
  
“Are you ready, Pretty?” Gerard asks in a whisper. Frank’s eyes slide open partly.  
  
“Will it hurt?” asks his weak voice.  
  
Gerard pets Frank’s head tenderly. “No, Pretty, it won’t. You have enough painkillers in you to keep it from hurting.” Frank simply closes his eyes again. Gerard quickly lubes his own dick up and gets himself aligned. He just slightly pushes into Frank and then waits to see if Frank’s responds. Frank only continues drawing his slow, shallows breaths. As Gerard presses himself into Frank completely, he also presses their bodies together, wrapping his hands around the back of Frank’s shoulders to pull Frank even closer and nuzzling his face into Frank’s neck. Frank’s body tenses for a moment, and Gerard waits for Frank to melt back into the mattress before he starts a slow, gentle pace of thrusts.  
  
Frank responds very little, so Gerard lets himself get lost in the sensation of the friction and warmth of Frank being wrapped so tightly around him, his eyes slipping shut. Frank emits a soft sound that Gerard can’t identify, but it urges Gerard on. He quickens the pace some, thrusting deeper into Frank’s ass. Suddenly Gerard feels a hand on his hip. He forces his eyes open to look at Frank.  
  
Frank’s eyes are open again, and Gerard become aware that Frank’s body is trembling and writhing under him. Frank’s mouth keeps opening and closing like he’s trying to say something. Frank seems to give up on trying to talk for a moment as he throws his head back, his grip tightening on the pale skin covering Gerard’s hip, and gasps. Gerard takes advantage of Frank’s exposed throat, kissing and sucking at it. Frank finally brings his chin back down; his eyes are barely still open.  
  
“F-feels g… good,” he pants. Gerard can’t resist kissing Frank’s mouth again. He can feel Frank’s sporadic breathing on his lips. Wanting to help Frank enjoy this even more, Gerard reaches down to stroke Frank’s length, but he’s a bit disheartened when he finds Frank’s dick is once again soft. Quickly Frank’s body stills again and sinks back down into the bed, Frank’s hand falling from Gerard’s side. But Gerard is close, so he keeps rocking into Frank. Only another moment later, Gerard peaks, calling out “Pretty” as he does.  
  
“I love you… so, so much, Frankie,” Gerard gasps, still trying to catch his breath. He rests his head in the crook of Frank’s neck just in time to feel the vibrations of Frank’s voice.  
  
“I love you, too.” Gerard’s mind fills with thoughts instantly. He jerks his body up, looking down into Frank’s face. Frank’s eyes are still closed, but there is a peaceful and happy aura that seems to be surrounding Frank. Gerard wants to ask Frank every question twisting his thoughts, but he settles on the one he thinks is most important.  
  
“Who do you love, Frankie?” Gerard waits with bated breath. Even if he knows it will be a lie, he wants to hear those words and his name fall from Frank’s lips in the same sentence. Frank’s countenance remains unchanged for moment, and then he appears to frown a small bit.  
  
“I don’t know,” his strained voice whimpers. Frank’s eyes open, confusion written on his irises. Gerard’s eyes sting with tears. “Do I love you?” Gerard’s heart constricts, and the tears pooling in his eyes fall. Frank continues staring straight into Gerard’s eyes with his questioning, hazel orbs. Gerard pets Frank’s hair.  
  
“No, Pretty. No, you don’t love me. You can’t love me.” Frank blinks slowly a few times. Gerard presses his lips to Frank’s cheek and then his cheek over the place he just kissed.  
  
“But…” Frank pauses, and Gerard lifts back up to hear Frank’s words. Gerard feels like Frank’s gaze is piercing his soul. “But you love me?” Gerard’s heart breaks, knowing Frank is unaware of the words leaving his lips; he wants Frank to mean them. Another tear falls from his eyes, landing on Frank’s cheek. Gerard wipes it away with his thumb.  
  
“Yes, Pretty,” he breathes, unable to speak any louder. “Yes, I love you with all my being.” Frank smiles weakly as he hums in reply, and his eyes slip shut again. Gerard kisses Frank’s lips once more, and then he breathes against them, “If I loved you anymore, Frankie, my heart would explode.” Gerard just looks at Frank for a few minutes, his fingertips ghosting over Frank’s face and jawline. Frank appears to be lost in the drug’s euphoria again. Gerard withdraws what bit of his now soft dick is still in Frank and climbs up off of the bed.  
  
Gerard relieves his bladder and then takes to getting the place put back in some sort of order. He makes sure all the medications are locked away in the closet and washes the few dishes in the sink. He heads back into the bedroom and double checks the locks on the door. Once he’s satisfied that everything is secure, he puts all the keys back in the lockbox and stores it away in its hiding spot. He turns the light off and snuggles into the bed close to Frank. A thousand emotions twist his thoughts, but one thought never occurs to Gerard: he didn’t feed Frank the two white sedatives.


	6. Day 5

The stars are still hung in the sky when Frank’s eyes open slowly. He blinks a couple of times trying get fully awake. There is a body lovingly wrapped around his, and he knows who that body is. Even though he can’t remember anything after Gerard locked him in that damn box, he knows what happened; Gerard had made his intentions clear. And the fact that Gerard’s naked body is intertwined with his naked body just confirms what Frank already knows.  
  
Bile forces its way up Frank’s throat, and Frank jumps out of the bed in a dash for the toilet. He barely makes it over the porcelain bowl before he’s emptying his stomach. When he stops retching, he collapses onto the floor, sending a flash of pain up his spine. He looks down his body at all the bruises and marks on his skin. He wonders how bad his face looks. As he stands from the floor, he realizes how full his bladder is. Frank adds to the contents of the toilet and flushes it.  
  
Frank walks towards the mirror over the sink. Each step screams at Frank how battered and abused his body is, but Frank is only relieved; his mind is more clear than it’s been in days. He is grateful the drugs have blocked what he knows would be some horrific memories, but it’s nice to be able to have his mind at full cognitive function for a while. He’s sure he’ll be drugged again soon, as he can’t recall willingly taking nearly as many meds as it would take to mess up his mind as badly as it is; he knows Gerard has been drugging him without his knowledge.  
  
Frank makes it to the mirror, but he’s afraid to see his reflection. He sighs hard and forces his gaze to reflective surface. While they appear to be healing, Frank’s face is littered with blue-green stains and scabbed over cuts. The left side of his lower lip is still somewhat swollen from the forced piercing. He raises his chin to continue surveying the damage. More dark marks dot his throat, forcing Frank to race back to the toilet. He empties his stomach again, far less coming up this time. The marks on his throat are from abuse, but Frank knows they aren’t from violence; they are passion markings.  
  
Frank feels used and unclean. He turns the shower on as hot as he can stand the water to be. He needs to get these marks off of him; he needs to scrub the outer layer of skin off his body. Frank hisses as he steps into the near scalding water. Even if the temperature is brutal on his skin, it helps Frank mentally, feeling sanitizing to him. He starts frantically scrubbing with all the strength he can muster. Frank scrubs until his skin feels raw, until it begins to sting with the soap, but the grimy feeling is still there, like it’s seeped into his blood stream.  
  
Frank chokes on a scream, only trying to stop the anguish from coming out vocally as to not wake _him_. He gets out of the shower, not even bothering to turn off the water, and drips water across the bathroom and into the bedroom. He checks the door to the bedroom, hoping by some miracle it’s not locked. When it doesn’t budge, he just stands there looking at the door, eyeing the silver padlock. Suddenly Frank remembers the breakfast Gerard had gotten them that first morning. Gerard had to leave to get it, which means Gerard has a key on this side of the door for that lock somewhere.  
  
Gerard makes a noise and shifts in the bed. Frank jerks around and then freezes where he stands. He watches Gerard reposition on the bed, pulling the sheet over him a little more, and then settle back down. Just looking at Gerard makes him nauseated again, but Frank watches him for a few minutes to make sure Gerard doesn’t fully wake. Frank takes to scanning the room, looking for places that could be used to hide things.  
  
He starts with the dresser, pulling out all the clothes onto the floor. He finds no key. Frank eyes the nightstand over his shoulder. He weighs the risks of digging through those drawers so close to Gerard’s head. He decides to take the risk, but again there are no keys in the drawers. Frank checks Gerard’s art table, the cabinets in the bathroom and kitchenette, and even under the bed. No keys. During his search, Frank discovers the bathroom closet is locked, too. He stands in the trashed bedroom, unable to think of any other place Gerard would hide a key. Then Gerard’s jeans catch Frank’s attention.  
  
Frank glances towards Gerard before grabbing the pants. In one of the front pockets, Frank finds a small, silver key alone on a key ring. He tries not to let his hopes build as he quickly steps towards the bedroom door. He has to stretch up in his tiptoes to reach the lock, but he tries to push the key into the lock. It doesn’t fit, but Frank doesn’t lose hope. He rushes back into the bathroom to the locked closet. If Gerard has the closet door locked, there is something in there he doesn’t want Frank to have access to. Frank takes a deep breath; he knows this is his last option because he’s out of ideas. He desperately tries to fit the key in the lock, but it won’t go in.  
  
Frank throws the key across the bathroom and screams. Why would Gerard guard a key in his pants pocket if it doesn’t go to either of the locks?! Frank collapses to the floor in a corner of the bathroom. He pulls his knees to chest, sobbing into them and rocking himself. He needs to find a way out. He has to get out of here. His thoughts spiral out of control as the helplessness and desperation consume him. If he hadn’t made a connection with Gerard, if he had just kept to himself, Gerard wouldn’t have gotten the wrong idea, wouldn’t have raped him again. If he wouldn’t have been so open, if he wouldn’t have reached out to his fans so much, if only he wouldn’t have let them so close… if only, if only… if only he wouldn’t have been so wrong about everything…  
  
The very early sunlight wakes Gerard. He tries to nestle closer to Frank to find Frank missing. Frank should still be deeply asleep. Gerard climbs out the bed. He knows Frank can’t get out of the basement. He looks around the bedroom, not seeing Frank but obviously seeing the mess Frank had made. Gerard wonders what Frank was looking for. He hears water running in the bathroom, so Gerard steps in there. The shower is empty, and the water spraying from the shower head is freezing, indicating it has been running for a while. Gerard reaches in the shower stall and cuts the water off.  
  
As soon as the bathroom is quiet, Gerard hears Frank’s soft crying coming from behind him. He turns to find Frank huddled in a corner. Frank doesn’t seem to acknowledge Gerard’s presence. Gerard just observes Frank for a minute. His eyes are rimmed dark red, his flushed cheeks are wet with fresh tears, and his nose is running. His entire naked body is folded in on itself and trembling violently. Gerard looks a little closer and notices fresh, raw abrasions covering most of Frank’s body. He wonders where they came from.  
  
Gerard slowly steps towards Frank, careful not to startle him. After three steps, Frank’s eyes dart up and meet Gerard’s. Animalistic fear penetrates Frank’s eyes, and somehow Frank manages to shrink his body even smaller. His soft cries turn into full sobs. _Gods don’t cry._  
  
“There you are, Pretty,” Gerard murmurs gently as he crouches down towards the floor to be on Frank’s level. Frank just stares at Gerard, his expression unchanging. “Can I… may I help you, Pretty?” Gerard is not sure what to think, what to do. He falls over onto his hands and knees, vigilantly watching for any reaction from Frank. Frank remains unchanged, so Gerard crawls over to Frank, stopping just short of Frank’s curled up body. He sits back onto his legs. Gerard gradually reaches out his hand for Frank inch by inch. Right as Gerard’s fingertips brush Frank’s knee, Frank’s wet eyes grow wide.  
  
“D-don’t touch m-me,” Frank sobs weakly. Gerard nods his head a small bit and pulls his hand back.  
  
“Frankie, just let me help you calm down. I can’t stand to see you like this, Pretty. Will… will you let me do that?” Frank continues to look at Gerard, Frank’s eyes frantically darting back and forth between Gerard’s. Gerard scoots a tiny bit closer to Frank. Frank takes a sharp, shuddery breath.  
  
“C-can’t. Can’t c-calm down,” he gasps. Gerard lowers his head for a moment. _Gods don’t break._ He looks back up to Frank.  
  
“I can help you, Pretty. Please let me help you,” Gerard pleads as he reaches out his hand towards Frank again but intentionally not touching him this time. Frank sobs loudly, but shakes his head. Frank doesn’t know why he’s agreeing to let Gerard help him, but he knows he can’t calm down on his own right now. And he can’t believe what he’s about to ask for.  
  
“D-drugs?” Gerard pets Frank’s head, and he’s certain Frank leans into the touch.  
  
“Anything, Pretty. Just give me a minute.” Gerard stands quickly and rushes for his pants in the other room. He digs for his key to the lockbox, but it’s not in his pocket. He looks around the floor, but he doesn’t see it there either. He decides he can find it later; for now, he can just break the door down. As Gerard steps back into the bathroom, a glimmer of reflected light catches his attention. He steps further into the bathroom. The key he is looking for is laying on the floor. Gerard bends down and picks it up. There is only one way it got in the bathroom. He palms the key and turns to face Frank’s trembling form.  
  
Gerard won’t allow the thought that Frank was trying to escape enter his mind. “Pretty, did you take the key out of my pocket?” he asks as kneels back down next to Frank. Frank appears to cower. “Did you want in the closet? Were you trying to get some medicine, Pretty?” Frank seems to think for a minute before he nods. Gerard lets out a breath he didn’t realize he has holding. “Frankie, you could have woken me up. I’d have happily gotten you some medicine, Pretty.”  
  
Frank breaks into another round of gasping sobs. Gerard feels guilty that he’s wasting time instead getting Frank the drugs he asked for. He dashes for the lockbox and retrieves the key for the closet. Frank wishes he could spy on Gerard, to see what that key goes to, but he’s unable to move from the spot he’s in. Once Gerard is back in the bathroom, he realizes Frank sounds like he’s hyperventilating. Gerard gets the closet unlocked. He’s not sure what to give Frank. He has Xanax, but he’s knows it’s a very hefty dosage, probably too large for Frank. Gerard settles on the blue pills, but giving Frank four instead of just two. He grabs a bottle of water and settles back down at Frank’s side.  
  
“Here you go, Pretty,” Gerard murmurs. Frank obediently opens his mouth, and Gerard feeds him the pills. “Let me carry you to bed, Pretty.” Gerard pets Frank’s head and waits for Frank’s consent. Frank chokes out a sob, the idea of being in the bed with Gerard making him sick again.  
  
“N-not yet,” Frank whimpers. Gerard puts his other hand on Frank’s forearm.  
  
“Pretty, you’d be more comfortable there.” Gerard hesitates. “And you’re freezing, Frankie.” Frank doesn’t know what else to do, so he simply nods his head. Frank knows he’s cold; half of his trembling is really cold shivers. When Gerard picks Frank up off the bathroom floor, Frank instinctively snuggles into Gerard’s warmth. Frank feels lightheaded from breathing so rapidly for so long.  
  
Gerard lays Frank on the bed and goes to digging through the clothes on the floor. He finds a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt. Frank is relieved a little when Gerard starts helping him get dressed, knowing at least he isn’t going to be naked in the bed with Gerard. After Frank has the clothes on, Gerard puts some clothes on himself and pulls another blanket out of the bedroom closet. He carefully tucks Frank in. Gerard climbs up beside Frank, thinking Frank already seems to be a little calmer.  
  
Gerard pets Frank’s head and talks Frank through some deep breathing. Frank begins to feel more relaxed. He doesn’t want to be comforted by Gerard. After all, Gerard is the reason Frank got worked up to start with. But Frank needs someone to console him, and the only other person locked in this basement with him is his captor. Frank tries to not think about anything other than the solace he’s receiving. Gerard watches Frank’s breathing regulate, and Frank eventually drifts off to sleep, hoping he never wakes.  
  
Gerard watches Frank sleep for a while to make sure he’s going to stay relaxed and settled. Gerard mindlessly pets Frank’s head while he tries to understand what happened. He can’t figure out why Frank would get so worked up over not being able to find some medicine. Gerard goes over it and over it in his head; there’s something he’s missing. He makes a mental note to ask Frank when he wakes up.  
  
In the mean time, Gerard starts putting the basement back together. He gets all the clothing back in the drawers, and his bottle of lubricant, his condoms, his comic books, and his other things put back in the nightstand drawers. While he’s at it, he cleans some of his own mess up, collecting dirty clothes, drawings, and comic books off the floor. Gerard makes his way into the bathroom and mops up the puddles of water Frank dripped onto the floor with some towels. He goes to shut and lock the closet when the bottle of sedatives catches Gerard’s attention; Gerard suddenly realizes how Frank was able to wake so early. He reminds himself to not forget to give those to Frank again as he locks up the closet.  
  
Gerard leans his shoulder against the doorframe of the bathroom. He again watches Frank sleep. Frank looks perfect, as a god should, even with his tear stained eyes. _Gods don’t cry._ Gerard smiles just a bit. Frank is mourning his past life now; he may not accept his new life with Gerard yet, but he has learned he can’t go back, quicker than Gerard thought it would take. Gerard just wishes that knowledge hadn’t been so traumatic for Frank to accept. _Gods don’t break._ But now, all Gerard has to do is care for Frank, to love him and help him start his life anew. All Gerard has to do is teach Frank to accept Gerard himself.  
  
Something’s not sitting right with Gerard, though. His mind keeps playing over and over the sight of Frank’s wet eyes penetrated with utter, primal fear. _God’s don’t cry._ He can’t stop seeing the image of Frank’s crumpled and trembling form on the floor. _God’s don’t break._ Gerard only wanted Frank to be scared enough to do as he said, not completely crippled with terror. How can Gerard’s god have fallen so far from grace?  
  
Frank softly moans in a way Gerard has learned means he is beginning to wake. Gerard moves to the bed to be next to Frank. Frank can sense Gerard looking at him before he even opens his eyes. He finally lets his eyelids part but keeps his gaze on the ceiling. He waits for Gerard to do something: touch him, speak to him, Gerard’s odd mannerism of petting him, or the worst, Gerard to kiss him. But Gerard does none of those things, to Frank’s surprise. Frank finally rolls his head to look at Gerard, who is just lying beside him watching him thoughtfully.  
  
“You seem better now, Pretty,” Gerard states when Frank’s gaze meets his, but Frank can tell it is really more of a question. Frank draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to formulate an answer that isn’t a lie but not the whole truth.  
  
“I am. I just woke up in a panic.” Gerard does what Frank expects and starts petting Frank’s hair; Frank wonders when he became so accustomed to the strange gesture.  
  
“It’s alright, Pretty. But if it happens again, wake me up so I can help you before you get to the state I found you in this morning.” Frank can hear the concern dripping from Gerard’s voice, but he wishes Gerard wasn’t so emotionally attached to him.  
  
Frank tries to change the subject. “How long was I asleep?”  
  
“It’s been quite a few hours. Are you hungry, Pretty?” Frank nods in a near eager fashion. “Is there something particular you want? I have a bunch of different things in the pantry.” Frank thinks for a moment. He knows what he would really like, but he doubts Gerard will have it due to its childish nature.  
  
“Do you have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” he asks meekly. Gerard’s eyes twinkle, and he leans forward and kisses Frank’s forehead.  
  
“Who doesn’t have good ol’ PB and J’s?” Gerard replies rhetorically. “Would you like a Mountain Dew with that fine dining cuisine?” Frank can’t help but let a little grin grace his lips at Gerard’s silliness as he nods his head. Gerard beams inside at Frank’s small, happy gesture and decides to keep it going a little longer. He climbs up out of the bed and then bows to Frank. “Right away, sir Pretty. I shall give your order to the chef immediately,” he says in a pretentious accent. As he stands back upright, he sees that Frank’s grin has grown a little more. Keeping up the act, he hurries away.  
  
Frank knows it’s the medicine Gerard gave him that’s giving him this happy emotion, but after this morning, he’d rather have this drug-induced joy than fear, panic, and disgust. He stretches a little and sits up in the bed. He immediately notices that Gerard has cleaned the entire room, righting not only the mess he had made in his frantic search but the mess that has been ever present since he first awoke here. His skin aches, so he pulls his shirt up to check the damage he had done to himself. He has quite a few patches of red, raw skin from scrubbing so hard. He hears Gerard’s footsteps, so he pulls his—or what he assumes is Gerard’s—t-shirt back down.  
  
Gerard is still carrying on as he reenters the bedroom. “And for the gentleman,” Gerard states in the same faked accent, “our finest creamed peanuts and congealed grape juice on wheat bread with thinly sliced, expertly fried potatoes and some dew from the mountain of Pepsi.”  
  
“Thank you, Gerard,” Frank replies in his normal voice, trying hard to hide a snicker. Frank takes his plate and bottle of soda, and Gerard presses his lips to the top of Frank’s head, dropping the act.  
  
“You’re welcome, Pretty. I have to get mine. I’ll be right back.” Frank just nods and begins eating. Only a moment later, Gerard is setting himself down on the bed. They eat in silence, and Frank notices Gerard looking at him. Frank has become used to being Gerard’s study material, but there’s something different about it this time. Gerard isn’t looking at Frank with his usual lovesick expression; Gerard is looking at Frank inquisitively. Frank begins to feel uncomfortable again. He finally looks directly at Gerard.  
  
“What?” he asks. Gerard swallows his mouthful of sandwich and takes a drink to wash it down.  
  
“Pretty, I mean no offense, but…” Gerard pauses, and Frank is almost fearful of what Gerard is about to say. “..but after this morning… Pretty, do you need or take medicine regularly for anxiety that I need to get for you?” Frank knows he doesn’t, but he is seriously considering asking Gerard to let him take the blue pills regularly; they certainly make being held as a prisoner much more bearable. Frank takes so long to think, Gerard is worried he may have insulted Frank. “Nevermind, Pretty. I just… I thought maybe…” Gerard looks down at his plate, breaking a potato chip in half.  
  
“I can keep taking the little, blue ones you gave me this morning if you don’t mind.” Gerard looks back up to Frank’s gaze.  
  
“Okay, Pretty. But you have to take that particular medicine three times a day.” Frank just nods. Gerard seems to think of something right then. “Which means…” he trails off as he gets up from the bed and pads into the bathroom. Frank just stares at the door Gerard disappeared through. Gerard quickly comes back, holding something out to Frank. “You need more now,” Gerard finishes his sentence from a moment ago. Frank holds his palm out, and Gerard drops two pills onto it. Frank just looks at them for a moment, not believing he is actually doing this. Before he changes his mind, he pops the two pills into his mouth and swallows them down with Mountain Dew.  
  
Frank is grateful that Gerard doesn’t seem to study him nearly as much as they finish up eating. Gerard gathers the dishes and returns them to the bathroom. When he comes back into the bedroom, he starts digging through a pile of books on his shelf. Frank watches for a moment, and then he makes his way to the bathroom. He checks to make sure Gerard didn’t follow him before doing his business. The craving hits Frank so hard, it nearly knocks him over; he hasn’t had a cigarette in days, and he needs one. Frank has yet to see Gerard smoke, but he remembers the pack that had been laying on the nightstand.  
  
“Gerard?” he calls as he walks out of the bathroom. Gerard looks over his shoulder at Frank, his eyebrows raised. “Do you smoke?” Gerard stops what he’s doing and turns to face Frank from across the room.  
  
“No, Pretty. Why?”  
  
“I need a cigarette, and I remember you having a pack. Could I have one?” Gerard’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at Frank for a moment, clearly thinking.  
  
“We have to break you of that nasty habit…” Gerard sighs. “…but I guess one in four days can’t hurt you too bad.” Gerard walk over to the nightstand and produces a pack of cigarettes—pulling only one out before placing the box back in the drawer—a lighter, and an ashtray. He hands it all to Frank. “When you’re done with _that_ , put the lighter and the ashtray back on the nightstand.” Frank nods weakly, more interested in getting the smoke into his lungs. He settles onto the bed to smoke while he watches Gerard continue to dig through the books.  
  
Right as Frank stubs the butt of the spent cigarette out, Gerard walks back towards the bed with a small stack of what Frank can now see are comic books. “I don’t have much to entertain you down here. But I know you like Wolverine, so I gathered some of my X-men comics for you to read for a little while,” Gerard explains as he puts the stack down next to Frank. Frank looks at the comic books and then back to Gerard. “I have to work for a little while. I have a set of drawings I am supposed to have returned to my publisher this week.” Frank tries not to let this interest him, but this is the first thing Gerard has said about his own life outside of these basement walls.  
  
“Okay,” is all Frank replies, even though he wants to ask Gerard about what Frank is assuming is Gerard’s job. Frank picks up the first comic in the stack and pretends to read it while he watches Gerard in his periphery collect some art supplies from his drawing table. Frank is even more curious when Gerard sits down in the corner of the room to draw instead of at the drawing table, but he forces himself to read the comic book, chastising himself for wanting to connect with his captor and abuser again.  
  
For the few hours leading to sunset, Frank reads the comic books while Gerard is busy drawing. Frank is extremely thankful for the reprieve from Gerard interacting with him; Gerard seems to be lost in whatever he’s drawing and not even glancing at Frank.  
  
Gerard eventually picks himself up from the floor, stretching out all his body. He deposits his belongings on the table and heads for the bathroom. Frank hears him moving around in there. A while later, Gerard reemerges and walks straight over to Frank.  
  
“Medicine time, Pretty.” Frank holds his hand out. Gerard drops the pills in Frank’s hand, but when Frank looks, there are two white pills in addition to the two blue ones. Frank knows he has seen the white pills before, possibly even has taken them before.  
  
“What are the white ones?” he asks suspiciously.  
  
“Those will help you sleep tonight,” Gerard answers nonchalantly. He stands in his spot, watching and waiting for Frank to take the pills. Frank doesn’t move to take them. “Take the pills.” Frank hears the command in Gerard’s tone. He hesitantly puts them all in his mouth and swallows them. “Good boy. If you need to use the bathroom, you need to go now.” Frank nods and moves to relieve himself.  
  
By the time Frank gets back in the bedroom, Gerard is already stretched out in the bed. Frank’s steps hitch; something seems consenting if he lays down in the bed with Gerard already in it. He forces himself to keep walking, though, just telling himself over and over they are both dressed tonight and that he’s not drugged out of his mind. He lies down, making sure to leave some space between their two bodies. Gerard reaches up and flips the light off, draping them in darkness… and Frank in fear.  
  
“Good night, Pretty,” Gerard calls softly, but Frank doesn’t answer. Frank feels Gerard shift closer to him and place his hand on Frank’s ribcage. Frank hopes the white pills, whatever they are, work fast. He concentrates on controlling his breathing. A short time later, Frank hears Gerard softly snoring. Relief washes over him that he’s not going to be raped again tonight. Not long after, Frank drifts off to sleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are closer to the end than the beginning now.
> 
> *sighs* I know you all are going "What the HELL?!" about the end of this chapter, but I promise you, I know what I'm doing. Just trust me.
> 
> (By the way, the little, blue pills Gerard is giving Frank are SPECTACULAR!! The house is burning to ground as a tornado smashes your car to bits at the same time the kids are refusing to listen to your directions as the neighbor tries to murder you while your husband is dying of a heart attack and the ambulance is still twenty minutes away... and you're just as happy as a fucking clam! Seriously! Like I said, SPECTACULAR medication!!)
> 
> Hugs and loves!  
> Miz


	7. Day 6

Gerard is nearly as tired when he wakes as when he went to sleep. He had troubling dreams all night last night, dreams about Frank. He stretches and then sits up in the bed to look at his god. Frank is still going to sleep for an hour or more, so Gerard decides to take a shower to see if it will help him feel any better.  
  
The warm water is relaxing, having the opposite effect on Gerard than he is hoping. It just makes him want to curl back up in the bed with Frank and sleep another few hours. But Gerard fears Frank might have a repeat of yesterday if he is asleep when Frank wakes up. Gerard drags himself out of the shower, dries off, and gets dressed. He retrieves the key to the closet and opens it up. He just needs something to keep him awake, something to help him function, but he doesn’t want to throw away eleven months of being clean. He stares into the closet, debating what he should do. Gerard decides Frank is more important and pops a couple of pills, thinking it’s a far cry from what he used to do and that he can’t avoid taking all medicine forever.  
  
While waiting for the pills to start working, Gerard sits down on the bed, assuming his morning ritual of watching Frank sleep. As Gerard admires Frank, he can’t help but remember his dreams, and anxiety begins to build in him. He tells himself over and over they’re just dreams, though. Gerard is glad when Frank finally begins to move around in the bed. Gerard waits for Frank’s sleepy, hazel eyes to look at his before he speaks.  
  
“Good morning, Pretty.” Frank rubs his palms over his eyes and groans, an idiosyncrasy of Frank’s that Gerard knows few others know about Frank. Gerard is going to hear that beautiful sound every morning for a while to come, and he couldn’t be happier about that. “I’ve got your pills ready for you to take.”  
  
“If I hadn’t seen you do it, I’d swear you never sleep,” Frank groans, still grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. Gerard grins.  
  
“I just don’t want to miss a single second of you, Pretty. Not everyone has a sovereign deity living with them.” Frank takes his hands away from his face and stares at the ceiling in disbelief. He finally looks back to Gerard.  
  
“I’m not living with you. And I’m not a god, Gerard.” Gerard’s face drains of all color. He looks from Frank’s gaze to nowhere and back a few times. Fear tightens Frank’s chest; he realizes Gerard must actually think he is a higher deity and that he just contradicted Gerard’s belief. Gerard’s expression changes to one of thoughtfulness, though his skin remains pale. Gerard opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Gerard finally closes his mouth. He peers hard at Frank and something seems to click for Gerard. He pets Frank’s head and smiles softly at him.  
  
“You need to take your pills, Pretty.” Gerard reaches behind him on the nightstand and gathers the two blue pills and the bottle of water he had brought with him from the bathroom earlier. “Here you go, Frankie.” Frank sits up in the bed, uneasy about what just happened. He takes the pills from Gerard and swallows them, sure he’s going to need their effects today. Gerard cocks his head and pets Frank again. “Good boy,” he whispers. Gerard just smiles at Frank for a minute with his usual love struck expression as he continues to stroke Frank’s short hair. Eventually he leans forward and presses a kiss to Frank’s cheek. Frank cringes, not appreciating the show of affection. “I was thinking I would make us some pancakes for breakfast, Pretty. How does that sound?”  
  
Frank nods skeptically. “That sounds good, I guess. But may I use the bathroom before you get started?” Frank hopes Gerard is going to let him piss alone after this sudden onslaught of affection this morning.  
  
“Yes, Pretty. I’ll wait here.” Frank sighs a breath of relief and heads towards the bathroom. Gerard watches him disappear through the door. His bad dreams have been banished from his mind as a thousand new thoughts swirl around in his head. He’s not even sure where to start. Before he can figure it out, Frank is climbing back onto the bed. “Sing for me, Pretty. Please? Will you sing while I make breakfast?” Frank rolls his eye behind closed lids.  
  
“It’s really early, Gerard. How about I sing for you after we eat?” Gerard nods and turns to walk away, but instead of going to the bathroom, Gerard walks over to the bedroom closet. Frank watches Gerard nearly climb into it. When Gerard steps back, he’s pulling a flat, rectangular case out of the closet. Frank knows what it is, and he’s actually a little excited.  
  
Gerard puts the case on the bed. “It’s not a Les Paul like you play, Pretty. Hell, it’s not even an Epiphone,” he states as he pulls the electric guitar out of its case. “But if you want to tinker with it, Pretty, and see if you can get it to work…” Gerard trails off, handing the guitar to Frank. “I’ve got a small amp and cables for it, too.”  
  
“Let me just look at it for now. You got some tools?” Gerard nods as he heads back towards the closet. He pulls a small, grey box off the shelf and returns it to Frank.  
  
“I’ll just, uh… I’ll go make breakfast now, Frankie” Gerard mutters, basking in Frank’s eagerness. Frank is already taking the guitar apart.  
  
Gerard goes into the kitchenette and starts some coffee brewing. Then he pulls out an electric griddle and starts it warming up. As he prepares the batter, he keeps hearing Frank’s words over and over in his head. _I’m not a god, Gerard._ Frank appears to be a god, but maybe he’s really not. Maybe he’s just an extraordinary mortal. And Gerard knows he could love Frank the Mortal a lot more than he loves Frank the God. Gods are untouchable. Gods don’t cry. Gods don’t break. Frank, though… Frank does both. Gerard knows because he has seen it with his own eyes. Gerard knows this means he has to change his approach to how he is training Frank now, and if he does that…  
  
Gerard piles the pancakes up on two plates and pours some syrup over them. He pours two cups of coffee. Gerard takes a plate and a mug of coffee back out to Frank. Frank is digging through the closet. Gerard sets Frank’s breakfast down on the bed.  
  
“Pretty, what are you doing?” He walks over to Frank, admiring Frank’s bent over ass.  
  
Frank’s voice is somewhat muted from inside the closet. “Where’s that amp?” Frank shifts more of Gerard’s stuff around, most of it art supplies. “Didn’t you say you had one in here somewhere?” Gerard laughs quietly.  
  
“Did you get the guitar fixed, Pretty?” he asks. Obviously if Frank wants the amp, he has, but Gerard is just stalling, wanting Frank to continue digging through the closet a little longer with his adorable ass up in the air.  
  
“Yeah. I think so, anyway,” comes Frank’s muffled voice. “You had a loose wire. I also did what little maintenance I could, but it probably needs a tech to give it a once over soon.” Frank moves two more boxes. “Damn, Gerard. How much shit do you keep in here? Do you throw _any_ of your art stuff away?” Gerard laughs again and moves up behind Frank, placing his hand on Frank’s hip. Frank stiffens at the intimate touch and immediately stands back upright.  
  
“You’re looking in the wrong place, Pretty,” Gerard murmurs playfully. As he leans into the closet, he says, “If you’d have just told me you wanted it, I’d have told you where it was, Pretty.” In seconds, Gerard is pulling a small amp and a handful of cables out of the closet. Gerard starts to hand them to Frank but then pulls them back. “Eat first, Pretty. That was _your_ request.” Gerard kisses Frank’s forehead as he passes by him, amp and cables still in his hands. He puts it all down on the floor on his side of the bed and heads back to get his own plate and coffee.  
  
Frank is a little leery of Gerard. Frank expected Gerard to be upset to learn that he is, in fact, not a god, but Gerard seems happier and more affection now. Frank wonders if maybe he should have just let Gerard think he is a deity. He settles onto the bed and is taking his first bite when Gerard comes back into the room. For most of the time they are eating, Gerard is obviously staring at Frank, a lovesick glint in his eyes. Frank grows more and more uncomfortable in the gaze. Frank finally decides to break the distressing, almost sexually charged silence.  
  
“What do you want me to sing today, Gerard?” He shovels another forkful of pancakes into his mouth.  
  
“I’d like to hear ‘Trying to Escape the Inevitable’ I think.” Somehow Frank knew that already.  
  
“Gerard…” Frank’s not sure how to finish his statement, but Gerard seems to know what’s he’s going to say.  
  
“It’s just a song, Pretty.” Gerard puts his hand on Frank’s knee, the only part of Frank close enough for him to touch at the moment. “It’s just words unless you want it to have more meaning, Frankie.” Frank sighs; he doesn’t believe Gerard. Just like that first day with “Yesterday,” Gerard is going to find his own meaning in this song. The lyrics too conveniently parallel their circumstances.  
  
“Why don’t I sing a LeATHERMOUTH song today?” Gerard scowls slightly.  
  
“Those songs are angry. And I don’t like they way you scream them; you sound like you’re in pain.” Frank does have to give Gerard that one; he does let out his rage and anguish when he’s performing those songs. Gerard doesn’t give him time to respond before he changes the subject. “Are you done eating?” Frank just nods, so Gerard goes about collecting the dishes. “You finish up with the guitar while I get these washed up, Pretty.”  
  
Frank’s enthusiasm is a bit dampened now, but it’s not completely gone. Frank gets everything hooked up and tunes the instrument. He begins fingering the chords he can remember on the frets. Luckily “Trying to Escape the Inevitable” comes back to him better than “Yesterday” did; he’s not in the mood to spend any time in his “time out” box. Frank turns and looks at the decrepit appliance, shuddering at the memory of the first time Gerard shoved him in there and the panic he had felt. Frank briefly wonders if he’ll be put in there again if he forgets the lyrics this time.  
  
“I won’t put you in there for forgetting the words this time, Pretty,” Gerard answers Frank’s thoughts like he could read the question in Frank’s mind. Frank jolts, not realizing Gerard is standing just inside the room watching him. Gerard strides over to Frank and pets his head a couple of time before pressing a kiss to the top of Frank’s head. “Just sing what you can remember.” Frank nods, and Gerard makes himself comfortable on the bed.  
  
Frank closes his eyes and plays the song’s intro, opening his mouth the sing when the time comes.  
  
 _“I have this reoccurring dream  
You make it hard for me to breathe  
I gave you everything I could  
I gave up everything I owned  
And when you smile it's not for me  
You offer little sympathy  
Your grasp so far exceeds your reach  
I wake up  
This is not a dream,”_  
  
Gerard shifts on the bed and rests his hand on Frank’s knee. Frank opens eyes and looks down at Gerard propped up on his side in front of him. As he continues singing, Frank sees Gerard’s lips moving in sync with the lyrics, and a smile tries to pull at Frank’s lips; Frank is forever the performer. His eyes slip shut, and Frank continues singing, the song seeming to just flow from Frank’s lips.  
  
 _“I almost can't believe  
You're the same person who can  
Straight-faced with a smile  
Tell me that you love me  
  
Crawl, but I don't get too far  
I know I should run  
But I just keep running back  
And I know I should run  
And I know I should run  
I know I should…  
I know I should…  
  
I have this reoccurring dream  
Where you admit that you're not happy  
I know that you will never leave  
You're here just to torment me  
  
I almost can't believe  
You're the same person that can  
Straight-faced with a smile  
  
I know I should run  
I know I should run  
I know I should...  
I know I should...  
  
Tell me you love me  
  
I have a new dream  
Where everything is perfect  
The sky is pink, yellow, green, blue and orange  
And all the past has been forgotten  
And we fell in love  
And we fell in—”_  
  
“Are you really not a god, Frankie?” Gerard cuts Frank off. Frank’s fingers stumble over the frets as shock at Gerard’s question stops his playing.  
  
“What… Gerard, what makes you think I am or ever was a god?” Gerard sits up on the bed, crossing his legs so his knees can press against Frank’s. Gerard’s fingertips reach out and brush Frank’s cheek in what Frank thinks is an almost reverend way.  
  
“You’re so perfect, Pretty. In every way one can be,” Gerard murmurs softly. Gerard allows his hand to skim down Frank’s arm, and Gerard’s fingertips brush over Frank’s fingers and linger there. Frank senses that Gerard wants to interlock their fingers and has a sickening feeling it wouldn’t be the first time Gerard has held his hand; after all, Gerard has done much worse things to Frank’s body. Frank subtly removes his hand from under Gerard’s touch.  
  
“I’m not a god, Gerard,” he repeats from earlier. “I’m not perfect either. I’m just a flesh and blood man like you.” Gerard’s lips pull into a teeth bearing smile, and Frank knows he has said the wrong thing. Frank wants to ask why this pleases Gerard so much, but Gerard seems to be able to read Frank’s mind yet again.  
  
“Gods can’t love mortals back, Pretty. And I’m a mere mortal.” Gerard’s smile takes on a slightly malevolent appearance. “But you’re not a god.” Frank’s stomach flip-flops at the implications of Gerard’s words, and his fingers tighten around the neck of the guitar.  
  
“Gerard, you don’t… you don’t love me. You don’t even know me. You love my image, my… my public persona,” Frank states as gently as he can, fearful of this dangerous game Gerard is playing. Frank lowers his gaze from Gerard, but he is quick to look back up when he hears the dark tone in Gerard’s voice.  
  
“I do know you, Pretty. I know you better than you think, Frankie. You know I do. You recognized my name; I saw it in your eyes. You got my letters, didn’t you?” Gerard only hesitates, not really waiting for Frank to answer his question. “I know you did, Pretty. I always made sure I sent them to where you were, where I was sure you’d be the one to get them.” Frank’s eyes are frozen on Gerard as he is forced to accept the things he’s been denying for nearly a week. “When did you stop reading them, Pretty?” Frank tries to recall how many of the letters he did actually read, but he doesn’t answer Gerard’s question fast enough. “At least six months ago, Frankie. I sent you my plan in one of my letters. I told you my dream, and I told you I’d figure out how to make it happen. I kept you updated in subsequent letters as I worked out the details, too.” Gerard strokes Frank’s cheek again, and Frank can see the insanity clearly in Gerard’s eyes. “And here you are, Pretty, with me.”  
  
Frank tries to back away, but Gerard grips Frank’s thighs painfully tight, keeping Frank where he is. “Y-you said you’d… that you’d l-let me go,” Frank stutters. The wicked grin plays on Gerard’s lips again.  
  
“Ah, but plans change, Pretty. Mortals can’t keep gods. But you’re not a god, are you, Frankie? You’ll become dependent on me, and then without even realizing it, you’ll learn to love me back, Pretty. Eventually you’ll willing let me show you my love.” Frank forces himself to look down at his lap. He’s certain what he’s about to say is going to end badly for him, so he has to summon the courage to force the words from his lips. But he’s done playing along and waiting for it to be over; Gerard just told him it is never going to be over. Frank allows all the negative emotions he’s feeling to show on his face, and then he looks back up at Gerard. Frank forces all the venom he can muster into his voice.  
  
“You kidnapped me. You’ve held me against my will. You’ve drugged me, beaten me, tortured me… you’ve _raped_ me. I will NEVER consent to sex with you! I will NEVER love you!” Frank sees it coming, but Gerard moves too fast for Frank to defend himself. Gerard’s fist collides with Frank’s face, knocking Frank over. The guitar slips from Frank’s grasp and clatters to the floor. Frank tries to crawl away, but Gerard wraps his hands around Frank’s throat and pins him to the bed. Gerard’s grip isn’t tight enough to completely cut off Frank’s air supply, but Frank still struggles to draw a breath. Frank’s nails claw at Gerard’s hands as his body thrashes around.  
  
“Stop fighting! You’re just going to make it harder for yourself, Pretty.” Frank ignores Gerard’s threat, so Gerard settles his body over Frank’s, his ankles crossing over Frank’s legs to help pin them down, too. “I don’t want to do this, Pretty. Stop fighting me,” Gerard growls.  
  
“Fuck you,” Frank chokes out. Gerard smirks maliciously.  
  
“If you insist, Pretty.” Frank’s breath hitches; he’s not drugged into oblivion to block out the memories this time. He flails his body even more violently, but Gerard pummels Frank’s head and face with his fist until Frank lies still. Frank is once again hanging between awareness and nothingness.  
  
Gerard climbs off Frank and just stands looking at the bloody mess he’s made of Frank’s face again. His guts are crawling with guilt, not wanting to hurt Frank any further tonight. But Gerard needs to break Frank completely so he can put Frank back together his way, and he knows it’s going to be difficult for them both. Gerard strips Frank of his clothing and gathers what he needs. He goes to work getting ready for what he’s about to do.  
  
The first thing Frank becomes aware of is a cold cloth wiping his sore face. He groans as he realizes a naked Gerard is sitting on top of him tenderly nursing his facial wounds. Then he becomes aware that he is also naked. Frank tries to fight Gerard off of him to find he’s tied spread eagle to the bed, unable to move his limbs even an inch.  
  
“Don’t do this, Gerard. Please!” he begs. Frank can see in Gerard’s eyes that it pains Gerard to do this, so he tries to use that to his advantage. “If you really do love me, Gerard, you won’t hurt me like this.” Frank is on the verge of tears.  
  
“You have to learn, Pretty,” Gerard murmurs softly, almost affectionately. “And I can’t keep you drugged forever.” Gerard looks away from Frank’s eyes to wipe away the last bit of blood from Frank’s cheekbone, just needing to look away from Frank’s intense gaze for a moment. Gerard leans his body over Frank’s, placing a kiss on Frank’s cheek before whispering in his ear, “It will hurt you less if you just relax, and I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.” When Gerard sits back up, Frank has tears running down his face.  
  
Gerard lubes himself and gets down between Frank’s legs. He can hear Frank’s cries of “no” under his breath. Gerard takes a deep breath and presses his length completely into Frank’s ass. Frank’s body tenses, and the volume of his cries increases some.  
  
Frank can feel the burn of Gerard stretching his already sore entrance. Flashes of pain shoot up his spine. But Frank does his best to concentrate on the pain in his wrists where the rope is cutting into his flesh from him pulling so hard against his restraints.  
  
“Please stop, Gerard,” Frank whimpers. Instead of complying with Frank’s plea, Gerard pulls out and slowly presses back in. Frank’s face contorts in a grimace, his eyes tightly shut. Gerard repeats the action, gradually building a slow tempo. Frank resumes muttering “no” repeated. Gerard shushes Frank, petting his head as he does.  
  
“I’m doing this because I love you, Pretty.” Gerard continues rocking into Frank at a pace so slow that he’s barely breathing harder than normal. “You can’t go back now. You belong here with me,” Gerard murmurs before he kisses Frank’s neck. Frank tries to pull away from the kiss, but there’s little he can do. But the kiss is nothing compared to the next thing he feels, Gerard’s fingers curling around his dick.  
  
“Don’t touch me there. Please, don’t touch me there, Gerard,” Frank sobs. Frank’s body is betraying his mind; his dick is semi-hard and only growing more solid. Gerard pumps Frank a bit until Frank is fully erect.  
  
“I’m not a selfish lover, Frankie. In time, I want you to enjoy this as much as I do.” Frank chokes on an involuntary moan as Gerard thumbs over the sensitive triangle of flesh behind the head of his dick several times. Frank is at war with himself; his mind wants it all to stop, but his body is begging for Gerard to pull him to his peak. Gerard increases the speed of his thrusts but still maintains a fairly slow tempo. A scream lodges itself in Frank’s throat, and Frank pulls on his wrist bindings until he can feel blood dripping off one of his wrists.  
  
“STOP!” Frank screams. Frank feels as if he’s teetering on the border of insanity. His body is overwhelmed with sensations, all of them fighting for dominance; intense waves of pleasure, pain, desire, and disgust keeping crashing over him, one after another in a random order. Tears continue to stream from his eyes as he crushes them shut and prays to any god who will listen to save him. But the only reply Frank receives he doesn’t want.  
  
Gerard has slowed his thrusts again and is working at bringing Frank to orgasm. Frank does all he can to fight it, but Gerard’s hand is better than Frank’s willpower. Frank cries out in anguish and strains against his bindings as his warm seed forces its way out of his body.  
  
“Good boy,” Gerard breathes across Frank’s skin as he leans in to suck and nip at Frank’s scorpion tattoo. Frank doesn’t have the strength to try to stop him. Gerard picks up his pace again, still only gently thrusting into Frank. He grips Frank’s hips as he feels his own orgasm building and tries to control his desire to bury himself deeply in Frank’s body as he releases his own thick fluids.  
  
Gerard pets Frank’s head as he rides out his post-orgasm. His voice is laced with affection as he speaks. “I love you, Frankie. I just want you to learn to be happy with me. I’m willing to give you everything you could want, Pretty. I have the means and the ability to do it. I’ll never let you want for anything, Pretty. And all I want in return is for you to love me half as much as I love you.” Gerard tries to embrace Frank as best he can with Frank tied to the bed. He can feel Frank’s tears dampening his cheek.  
  
“I want _my_ life back. I already had everything I wanted,” Frank sobs weakly. Gerard kisses Frank’s forehead.  
  
“That I can’t give you, Pretty. You can’t go back now; you’ll never be the same.” Frank is confused as to how Gerard can speak so lovingly to him after just raping him, but knows there is some truth in Gerard’s words. If he went back right now, he’d hire bodyguards, not be so open with his fans, and not let his fans get so close; he would do everything differently.  
  
Gerard’s caring voice reaches Frank’s ears again, “If I untie you so I can clean your wrists and ankles, are you going to fight me again?” Frank sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t have the strength to fight Gerard anymore tonight; he barely has the strength to shake his head. Gerard smile weakly and pets Frank’s head a few times. “Good boy.” Gerard starts with Frank’s ankles, careful not to rub the ropes against Frank’s raw skin. He moves to Frank’s left wrist next since it’s the lesser damaged of the two. The flesh on Frank’s left wrist is open, but it has stopped bleeding now. As soon as it’s free, Frank pulls his arm quickly to his chest.  
  
Gerard moves to the other side of the bed to Frank’s right wrist. He successfully manages to hold back his gasp at the damage Frank has done to his right wrist. The rope is burrowed into Frank’s skin, and his wrist is still slowly dripping blood into a small pool under it. Gerard tries to untie the rope as gently as he can, but Frank reflexively pulls against the binding again, causing his fingers to extend in pain.  
  
“Pretty, I’m going to get the first aid supplies and some medicine for you. I can’t untie your other wrist until you have something in your system, Frankie.” Frank just nods, and Gerard wonders if Frank even heard what he said. He grabs Frank two blue pills and two white sedatives before grabbing the medical kit in the bottom of the closet. The last thing he gets is a bottle of water for Frank out of the small refrigerator. When Gerard returns to the bedroom, Frank is completely drawn up into a ball on the bed with the exception of his right arm still tied to the bed in an extended position.  
  
“Take these, Pretty.” Frank doesn’t even look to see what pills Gerard is feeding him. He hopes it’s something lethal, but he knows by now Gerard isn’t trying to kill him unfortunately. After he swallows the pills, he just lets his head fall back onto the bed’s surface.  
  
Gerard again starts with Frank’s ankles. He examines them closely, but all he finds are rope burns. Gerard takes to cleaning the dried blood off Frank’s left wrist. Once the wrist is clean, Gerard puts some antibiotic ointment on the broken skin and wraps it in gauze. He checks on Frank. Frank looks like he can barely keep his glazed over eyes open; Gerard knows the combination of drugs is working hard on knocking Frank out. Gerard still believe he should let Frank know he’s about to try to untie his badly wounded wrist again.  
  
“Pretty?” Frank’s eyes roll around in his head until he finally manages to locate Gerard in his vision. “I’m going to get your other wrist undone now, Pretty. I can tell you it’s going to hurt,” Gerard says softly as he strokes Frank’s cheek. Frank just slowly nods twice before his eyes become unfocused again. Gerard sighs and begins untying the binding, his fingertips getting coated in Frank’s blood. As Gerard begins pulling the rope out of Frank’s flesh, Frank hisses. Gerard tosses the rope over the side of the bed to hang there. He turns Frank’s arm over and back to see the full extent of the damage.  
  
“Pretty, I think your Frankenstein stitches are ruined,” Gerard laments aloud, more to himself than Frank. “We’ll just have to see how it heals.” Gerard is more meticulous in washing Frank’s right wrist, and he spreads the antibiotic ointment copiously all the way around Frank’s wrist before wrapping it in gauze as well. Gerard kisses the top of Frank’s hand, and Frank pulls his hand away and up to his chest with his other arm.  
  
“Are you done?” Frank groans wearily. Gerard pets Frank’s head.  
  
“I could clean you up a little more, but if you want me to be done for now, Pretty, I can be.” Frank’s only reply is to roll from his back to his side and curl his body into a fetal position. Gerard pulls the covers over him and begins untying the ropes from the bed frame while he waits for Frank to pass out.  
  
By the time Gerard has everything put back up, Frank is completely out. Gerard rolls Frank to his other side so that Frank is facing towards the center of the bed. He puts a pillow under Frank’s head and positions Frank so that he looks somewhat comfortable. Gerard climbs into the bed facing Frank and presses a kiss to Frank’s lips. Gerard looks at all the fresh bruising and swelling on Frank’s face and then the white gauze around Frank’s wrists.  
  
Gerard hopes with all his heart that Frank is broken sufficiently soon; he knows he can’t bear to do this to Frank much longer. Gerard intertwines his fingers with Frank’s. “I really do love you, Pretty,” he whispers before he cries himself to sleep.


	8. Day 7

Gerard's eyes burn when he struggles to open his eyelids. He hasn't cried like he did last night in a long time; he's struggling to keep training Frank in such a harsh way. He allows his gaze to settle on Frank's broken form, on the watercolor stains adorning his skin and the white gauze on his wrists. Frank remains the exact way Gerard had positioned him last night. Gerard pets his head a couple of times and presses his lips to Frank's before he climbs up out of the bed.  
  
Gerard makes his way into the bathroom and over to the mirror. He cringes at his pale reflection staring back at him. His eyes are rimmed in dark red and slightly puffy. He reaches under the sink and grabs his makeup bag, determined to hide his appearance from Frank. He knows Frank can already see the cracks forming in his facade, and he doesn't want Frank to know he spent half the night crying. Gerard pulls his nearly white foundation out of the crimson colored bag and begins applying it to his face, not heavy enough to look unnatural but enough to mask most of his discoloration. He contemplates adding some eyeliner for more cover-up but decides against it, figuring it will only draw more of Frank's attention to his eyes. Gerard checks his reflection again; he can still see some red peeking through the makeup, but what little is showing can be blamed on not sleeping well. He puts the bag back under the counter and returns to Frank's side.  
  
Gerard snuggles up in the bed and laces his fingers with Frank's. As he watches Frank sleep, knowing Frank should be waking soon, he wonders if he should change his approach today, possibly just ask Frank what would make living here better. But Gerard remembers Frank not wanting anything from him yesterday when he had offered Frank nearly everything. Gerard sighs hard and steels himself to face another day of hurting, of _breaking_ Frank.  
  
Frank can feel Gerard's hand in his own, and it takes all of his willpower to not flinch and jerk his hand away. But he doesn't want Gerard to know he's awake yet; that means he'll be forced to interact with Gerard. Gerard's free hand brushes over Frank's jaw and slightly down his chest, coming to rest over Frank's heart. Frank remains motionless until he can hardly stand Gerard's hands on his body any longer. He slowly cracks open his eyes. Gerard appears to be intently studying either his hand on Frank's chest or, Frank assumes more than likely, Frank's chest piece, since Frank knows he's still naked under the sheets. He looks away from Gerard to a random place behind his captor.  
  
It takes Gerard a couple of minutes to realize Frank is awake. "Good morning, Pretty," he murmurs lovingly. Frank continues staring into nothing, but he can't keep himself from grimacing slightly at Gerard's voice and affectionate tone. Gerard's hand that has been on Frank's chest relocates itself to pet Frank's head.  
  
"Please don't touch me," Frank nearly begs in a rushed whisper, but Gerard doesn't comply, continuing to stroke Frank's hair without letting go of Frank's hand. Gerard shushes Frank.  
  
"I promise it will all be okay soon, Pretty. I'll go get your pills," Gerard states in the same tone from before. He sits up a little in the bed before he places a kiss on Frank's forehead. Frank slides his eyes closed as tears begin stinging them. He can't understand why Gerard keeps telling him that everything will be fine and how Gerard can be so loving after raping him, knowing that what he was doing was tearing Frank apart. Frank feels the mattress shift as Gerard climbs off of it. He waits as long as he thinks it would take for Gerard to be in the bathroom before he opens his eyes again.  
  
Movement catches Frank's attention, and he realizes Gerard is leaned under the bed. Then Frank hears the subtle sounds of metal clinking together. He gradually lifts himself off the bed, careful not to draw Gerard attention. What he sees revives some hope in Frank's chest. Gerard has a locked, metal box with keys, money, and other things in it, and Frank is certain the key he had found in Gerard's pants pocket opens that lock. Frank watches Gerard push the metal box back under the bed towards the wall. He quietly lays back down and closes his eyes, pretending he didn't see anything.  
  
Frank wonders how he can get to that lockbox without Gerard finding out. He needs a plan; he needs in that box. Gerard startles him when he places his hand on Frank's hip.  
  
"Take your pills, Pretty." Frank mechanically swallows the two blue tablets. "Good boy," Gerard mutters. Frank hears him moving around, and then the bed dips as Gerard sit down on the edge of it. He just pets Frank's head for a moment before asking, "What would you like for breakfast, Pretty?"  
  
Frank groans. "Nothing," he mumbles.  
  
"You have to eat, Pretty. Would you like more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?" Frank cringes at the memory, at how Gerard had made him feel so much better after that morning. Anger begins to boil in his gut; Gerard can seem so benign despite his malevolent intentions, and he's adept at lowering Frank's defenses.  
  
"I'm not hungry, Gerard," Frank all but growls.  
  
"Okay, Frankie." Gerard settles into the bed and cuddles close to Frank. He drapes his arm over Frank's side. Frank recoils from the half embrace. He opens his eyes for the first time since seeing the metal box containing his literal key to freedom. His eyes are filled with his contempt.  
  
"Do. Not. Touch. Me." Frank sees the conflict flit across Gerard's irises for a single second before Gerard's hand grips Frank's flesh tighter. Gerard's eyes narrow as he raises his head off the pillow.  
  
"I have only touched you out of love, Pretty," his voice ominous. "If I don't touch you, how are you ever going to grow accustomed to it, to learn to accept it as the affection I am showing you?"  
  
"I don't _want_ to grow accustomed to your touch! I don't _want_ your affection!" Frank rages. If Frank didn't feel so damaged and defiled already, he would cower at the infuriated expression that takes over Gerard's features. Gerard throws himself over Frank's body.  
  
"I could hurt you, Frankie. I could just take what I wanted from you!" A low growl pushes its way out of Gerard's chest. His next word are whispered maliciously. "I could break you without a single thought of what it would do to you."  
  
"No you can't. You love me too much to do something like that to me and not hurt yourself in the process," Frank mutters before thinking about the consequences of his words. Those are the wrong word to say to Gerard right now; those words are a challenge to him in the enraged state he's in.  
  
"Just remember, you asked for this, Pretty," Gerard growls. He spits in his hand, barely covering his dick with the saliva, before he forcefully and harshly shoves himself completely into Frank's ass. Frank screams out in pain, tears quickly falling from his eyes. His hands push against Gerard's body, trying desperately to fight his abuser off of him. Gerard starts to grab for Frank's hands before seeing the dressings covering Frank's wounds; he grabs Frank's wrists tightly, intending to inflict more pain, and pins Frank's arms to the bed with them. Frank hisses at the sharp pain that shoots through his right arm. He kicks his legs violently, but Gerard's body is pressed so close to his, Frank can't get enough leverage with his feet to push Gerard off of him.  
  
"STOP! YOU'RE HURTING ME!" Frank screams as he continues fighting Gerard with all he has left to give. Gerard knows somewhere in the back of his mind that this is going to be a huge setback for Frank, but Gerard also hopes that maybe this will be enough to finally break Frank completely.  
  
Gerard leans down to Frank's ear and whispers darkly, "You think I can't hurt you, Pretty? _This_ is me actually raping you, Frankie. I'm sure you'll see the differences." Gerard quickly withdraws and slams back into Frank. Frank cries out again, his body tensing as the pain shoots up his spine. Gerard doesn't hesitate, repeating the action again and again as he builds a fast tempo of hard and deep thrusts into Frank's ass. He does his best to concentrate on his movements to block out the heartwrenching pleas and sounds Frank keeps emitting.  
  
Frank tries to pull his arms free, but Gerard grips them tighter, his thumbs digging into the wounds on Frank's wrists. Frank continues struggling, knowing fighting is worth any physical injury. Gerard stops slamming into Frank, pulling out, and Frank's eyes widen in fear. Gerard tries to roughly manhandle Frank onto his stomach. Frank seizes an opportunity; he kicks his knee upwards, aiming for Gerard's groin, but misses. Gerard lands two breathtaking blows to Frank's ribs and manages to get Frank prone on the bed. He then plunges back into Frank. Frank's arms are trapped under him, so he attempts to push his torso off the bed. Gerard puts an arm across the back of Frank's neck and leans some body weight onto it, pinning Frank to the bed by his neck. Frank tries to writhe, but his entire body, with the exception of his legs below the knees, is completely pinned to the bed under Gerard's weight.  
  
"Please stop, Gerard," he begins crying, breaking the sinister silence that had fallen over the room. "You're hurting me. Please! Stop, Gerard," he continues muttering. A sob erupts from Frank's throat. Gerard can no longer handle the anguish in Frank's voice, and he knows he cannot release in Frank under these circumstances; he is getting no pleasure whatsoever from his actions. He ceases the violent slamming of his hips into Frank's.  
  
Gerard is compelled to hug Frank and try to comfort him, even though he is certain Frank would like to just be left alone right now. Already leaning over Frank's body, Gerard wraps his hands around the front of Frank's shoulders and pulls Frank's back against his chest.  
  
"I stopped, Pretty. I'm so sorry. I stopped, Frankie," Gerard murmurs to Frank. Frank doesn't hear the words Gerard speaks, but his voice brings to Frank's awareness that Gerard is no longer thrusting into him but instead attempting to comfort him. Frank's not sure which is worse: Gerard brutally raping him the way he just did or Gerard trying to comfort him after the fact.  
  
Gerard feels Frank's body relax a very small bit. He withdraws his now only semihard dick out of Frank causing Frank to wince and hiss. Bile rises in Gerard's throat when he looks down. His dick, his entire groin region, most of Frank's ass, and the backs and insides of Frank's thighs are saturated in blood. Frank's blood. Gerard has been so careful to not actually injure Frank this way, but now he lost control and did.  
  
Gerard is completely disgusted with himself, and he nearly falls into the floor trying to get off Frank's body and out of the bed. Frank doesn't react; he only continues drawing shuddery breaths with tears streaming down his face. Gerard can't get into the shower fast enough. He tries not to look down at the rust colored watered swirling around the drain as he scrubs himself clean. He replays what just happened over and over in his mind. Gerard suddenly realizes he just left Frank laying on the bed in that state. He quickly gets out of the shower, only half drying off, and rushes back into the bedroom.  
  
Frank is curled up in a fetal position on the bed like he had been last night, but Gerard notices he seems to have stopped crying. Gerard kneels down beside the bed next to Frank's tucked down head. He reaches out to pet Frank's hair but hesitates right before his fingertips touch Frank. He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. He lets his hand cross the distance and rest on Frank's head before he reopens his eyes. Frank's tear stained eyes are looking back at him when he does.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Pretty," Gerard whimpers. He cups Frank's cheek in his palm and brushes over the crest of Frank's cheekbone with his thumb. "I love you, Frankie, so much."  
  
"How can you keep saying you love me when you keep hurting me?" Frank's voice is defeated and small. Gerard sighs softly, not knowing how to answer Frank's question appropriately. Instead he tries to care for Frank again.  
  
"Pretty, why don't you go get yourself cleaned up? A shower might help you to feel better." Frank knew it was coming; it's Gerard's pattern he has learned now. He doesn't want to encourage Gerard, but he has no other choice.  
  
"I can't hardly move right now," he mutters. "I know I can't walk to get into the bathroom." Gerard swallows hard, fighting back tears. He can't hold Frank's broken gaze any longer, and he looks down at the floor.  
  
"Do you want.." Gerard's voice cracks with his emotions, and he clears his throat. "Do you want a shower or a bath, Pretty?" Gerard's voice is barely more than a whisper and wrought with guilt. Frank wants to be angry that Gerard thinks he has a right to be upset, but he's too emotionally drained. Besides, Frank already knew that when Gerard hurt him, Gerard was also hurting himself.  
  
"A bath," Frank answers softly. Gerard rubs his thumb over the crest of Frank's cheek again, still gazing at the floor.  
  
"I'll get your bath running, Pretty, and I'll come back for you." Gerard doesn't give Frank time to reply. He quickly hurries out the bedroom. It only takes him a minute to get Frank's bath running, and on his way to get Frank, Gerard retrieves two blue pills for Frank.  
  
"It's time for more medicine, Pretty," Gerard utters softly as he returns to Frank's side. Frank obediently takes the medication. Gerard pets Frank's head and then scoops him up off the bed. Frank sucks in a breath through clenched teeth as Gerard does so. Gerard cautiously carries Frank into the bathroom and gets him settled into the warm bath.  
  
Frank looks up at Gerard, fully expecting Gerard to bathe him like a helpless child. To Frank's bewilderment, Gerard seems to stagger backwards from the tub, unable to meet Frank's gaze. Frank is frightened by Gerard's behavior. Gerard has acted similiarly before, acted remorseful before, but Gerard seems almost devastated by his own actions this time. Frank truly fears for what Gerard will do next.  
  
"I'm going to, um..." Gerard half motions towards the bedroom, "let you... wash, uh..." Frank can see a tear escape Gerard's eyelashes as Gerard dashes out the door. Frank starts to clean himself when he notices the red tinted bath water he's sitting in. He knows that means he's bleeding and wonders if that is what's causing Gerard's odd behavior.  
  
Frank tries to not think about it. Instead he thinks about the metal box containing his freedom, his escape from this abuse. If he can get the keys... If he can get out of this basement... But then what? Is he still in New Jersey? Surely no matter where he is, someone would help him, take him to the police. The problem is getting enough time to find the lockbox, get the keys and money, get out of the house, and do it all before Gerard realizes Frank is gone. That seems nearly impossible considering Gerard drugs him to sleep, is awake before Frank, and watches every move Frank makes during the day. But if Frank doesn't take the sedatives one night...  
  
Frank hears a muffled sound coming from the bedroom. He strains to listen to it until he realizes what it is: Gerard is sobbing. Frank's unsure what to do. He doesn't care if Gerard is in emotional pain, nor will he try to console Gerard; he's really trying to distract himself from his own emotions. He wants out of the tub and to witness Gerard weeping.  
  
"Gerard?" Frank calls out. He hears sniffling and some shuffling around. "Gerard?" Gerard quickly appears in the bathroom fully dressed. He is barely able to hold Frank's gaze, but he doesn't speak, only waits for Frank to. "I want out. The water is cooling off," Frank states softly. Gerard nods.  
  
"Okay, Pretty," is all Gerard replies. As he gets closer, the only evidence Frank can find of Gerard's crying is some redness around his eyes. But as he reaches down to lift Frank out of the tub, Frank notices streaked and smeared makeup on Gerard's already pale complexion. Has he always been wearing makeup or was he hiding something under the cosmetics?  
  
Gerard delicately sits Frank in the side of the bed, and Frank notices that Gerard has set out clothes for him to wear, too. Gerard immediately begins helping Frank dress. Gerard helps Frank stand to get his underwear and pants pulled up, and their faces nearly brush together. Gerard quickly diverts his gaze Frank's face, but his eyes seem drawn back to Frank's. Gerard grazes his thumb over Frank's lower lip, and then the backs of his fingers stroke Frank's cheek.  
  
"Pretty, I... I don't know what to say to you," Gerard murmurs. Frank sees Gerard's lower lips quiver.  
  
"Let me go, Gerard," Frank whispers, not as a demand but a suggestion. Frank watches Gerard's eyes brim with tears. Gerard blinks a few times and reaches down to pull up Frank's clothes. He stands back up fully and pets Frank's head.  
  
"I need to rebandage your wet wrists, Pretty." Gerard forces a pathetic smile. "Will you let me do that, Frankie?" Frank simply nods. "Do you need help down onto the bed, Pretty?" Frank only nods again. Gerard lifts Frank off the floor and gently lays him in the bed. He presses his lips to Frank's forehead before he heads back into the bathroom.  
  
Gerard grabs the first aid kit out of the closet. He's not sure now why he thought his plan was so brilliant before; he fears he's going to break before Frank. Frank is so strong, and that is part of why Gerard loves Frank so much. But Gerard never considered Frank's strong character when he was making his plans. He sighs heavily and goes back to Frank's side.  
  
Gerard settles himself onto the bed and silently starts removing the wet gauze from Frank's wrists. Frank just watches Gerard work, but Gerard refuses to look at more than Frank's lower arms. As Gerard pulls the last of the dressing off Frank's right wrist, he sees fresh blood staining the white cotton. He draws a deep breath and sets about applying more antibiotic ointment and wrapping fresh gauze around the torn flesh. When he's finished, Gerard lifts Frank's arm to place a kiss over the fresh bandaging.  
  
Gerard encases Frank's hand in his own two. "I would let you go right now if I could, Pretty." Gerard finally raises his eyes to Frank's. "But I have altered the person the world knows and loves. Frankie, you belong here now, with me. I know you can't see it, Pretty, but things will be okay eventually... hopefully soon." Frank has heard these words from Gerard before, but he has never heard them with this inflection, as if it pains Gerard to say them.  
  
Frank thinks carefully before he replies quietly, "Yes, I am different in ways now, but I'm still me, Gerard, I am still Frank Iero. You cannot change who I am." Frank means this as an arguement for why Gerard _could_ let him go, but by the soft breath Gerard exhales, Frank knows Gerard is taking it as solace. Gerard allows Frank to take his hand back.  
  
"Please let me feed you, Pretty? Just a peanut butter sandwich and a Mountain Dew?" Gerard begs. Frank is hungry, so he agrees.  
  
"Make it peanut butter and jelly, and I'll eat it," Frank states with a small grin. Gerard returns the gesture. He enters the bathroom, going straight to the kitchenette. It only takes him a couple of minutes to get the food prepared and take it back out to Frank. They eat in silence.  
  
Gerard isn't sure if it's the blue pills' effects or if Frank accepts that Gerard didn't intend to hurt Frank the way he did. But Frank seems to be okay to Gerard, relieving Gerard of some of his guilt. Gerard reaches for Frank's empty plate, and Frank hands it over. Gerard takes the dishes into the bathroom and gathers Frank's evening pills together.  
  
"Here's your medicine, Pretty," Gerard mumurs as he reenters the bedroom. Frank places the pills in his mouth and takes a drink of his soda. He starts to climb up from the bed, and Gerard cocks his head.  
  
"If I need to go, do it before my meds kick in," Frank mocks Gerard lightly.  
  
"Good boy," Gerard coos. As Frank makes his way into the bathroom, he can feel sharp pains radiating throughout his body with each step, but it is imperative that he uses the toilet alone. He makes it to his destination. As he urinates, he spits the pills Gerard had just given him into the bowl. He flushes it all down and pads back into the bedroom.  
  
Gerard is still only sitting on the bed. Frank slowly lowers his aching body down onto the bed. Gerard pets Frank's head. Frank allows his eyes to slip closed and then cringes internally that Gerard's odd idiosyncracy has actually become comforting to him. Gerard flips off the light and snuggles into the bed. Frank hears Gerard's usual, whispered "Good night, Pretty." For a while, they lie together quietly, Gerard just petting Frank's head.  
  
Once Gerard believes Frank is out, he cuddles Frank's body closer and breathes into his ear, "I'm so sorry I did that to you, Pretty. You were right; it killed me when I realized what I had done to you, Frankie." Gerard draws in a shaky breath. "I love you, Frankie, so much more than my words could ever say. That's why I show you my love in actions, and I look forward to you being able to see it and accept it, and hopefully one day, return it." Gerard brushes his thumb over Frank's lips, stopping to toy with Frank's piercing before rubbing back over them. He presses his lips to Frank's, expressing his love to his sleeping Frank.  
  
Frank struggles to maintain his calm, steady breathing. He wonders if Gerard has personal moments like this with his unconscious body every night. But if he has anything to do with matters, this will be his last night in this bed enduring this unwanted affection, so Frank focuses on his breathing and waits for Gerard to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this is the best of the chapters. I was having computer issues when I wrote this chapter, and it was written on a cell phone, I kid you not. The entire almost 4,000 words was typed on my Android in about three days. Luckily for me, I copy and paste this to this site and my computer issues are behind me. I've been called "passionate about my writing" for do that; I call it "over-obsession with a hobby." Needless to say, I didn't do much with my cell phone for a while after those three days.


	9. Day 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apolgize for the long wait! This is the next to last chapter, not counting the epilogue. It shouldn't be two months before I post the last chapter and epilogue! 
> 
> Loves! Miz

Frank lies in the bed thinking of anything he can besides the body wrapped around his own. In his head, he starts counting random sounds, how long the wind blows outside, the number of thoughts in his own mind. Frank suddenly realizes he has been locked in this basement for a week now. One week ago at this very time, he was in his own bed barely sleeping because of the excitement of that night’s show. Who would have known what fate had in store for him in the following week, that very same day? Other than the person whose body is now half laying on top of him…

The thought of Gerard prompts Frank into action. He waits for his vision to adjust to the dark bedroom before he checks to make sure Gerard is soundly sleeping, and then slowly and carefully he moves Gerard’s arm from around his waist. Gerard stirs only slightly, but Frank holds his breath, waiting for Gerard to settle back down. When he hears Gerard’s soft snores again, Frank uses the same meticulous movements to slide himself out of the bed. Gerard rolls slightly towards Frank’s side of the bed and appears to be trying to find Frank’s body. Frank delicately pushes his pillow down to where his body should be. Gerard wraps his arm around it and snuggles into it. Frank looks around the room. Very little light is coming in through the small window, and the room looks rather foreign draped in shadows.

Frank pads as noiselessly as possible to the end of the bed where Gerard left his jeans. The key is just inside Gerard’s right pocket where he found it before. Frank continues moving on around the bed. He crouches down and looks under the bed for the lockbox he had seen earlier. But all he sees is blackness staring back at him. Frank draws a deep breath and lets it back out silently; he’s going to have to find the box by touch. He gradually reaches his hand into the dark void under Gerard’s bed. He finds no metal box; he finds nothing at all.

Frank puts his forehead on the floor for a moment. He knows what he needs is under this bed somewhere, but where? Frank slides a bit more under the bed as he pushes his arm further into the blackness. His fingertips find the wall, and he allows them to brush across it. Frank feels a crack in the smooth surface. His fingers trace along it until Frank realizes it’s a rectangular cutout section. He pries the section of drywall out with his fingernails and quickly reaches into the opening. His knuckles thud against cold metal. In the silence of the room, the sound seems to reverberate off every surface, and Frank freezes. He listens for any clue that Gerard heard something. All he hears is the muffled sound of Gerard’s breathing.

Frank stretches both hands around the box and crawls his way completely out from under the bed. His heart beats wildly in his chest as he clutches the cold metal and watches Gerard. Gerard’s only movement remains that of his chest rising and falling. Frank doesn’t even know for certain that the contents of this box can free him, but he does know this box holds his last shred of hope. He closes his eyes and whispers a prayer to all the gods that have yet to answer any of his prayers thus far. Then he carefully slides the silver key into the lock on the front. With bated breath, Frank turns the key. The box pops open.

He tries to contain himself as he gathers the money and the ring with three keys on it and stands from the floor. Frank quickly crosses the bedroom to the door he knows leads out of this basement. He stretches up on the tips of his toes and tries the first key. It won’t fit in the lock. Frank switches keys and tries the second one. The lock clicks open. Frank stands for a second staring in shock at the lock… the _open_ lock. He finally forces his hand to take the lock off the door. The door squeaks slightly as Frank pulls it open. He doesn’t wait to see if it wakes Gerard; he dashes into the dark stairwell and runs up the steps toward the moonlight illuminating the top of the stairs.

As Frank reaches the top, he can make out the silhouette of a kitchen. Frank wants to bask in the cool glow of the moon streaming in through the two windows, more natural light than he has seen in the past week, but Frank knows he needs to move quickly. He checks the back door in the kitchen. It’s locked. Frank tries the three keys on the ring, but none of them open the door. Frank jogs for the next room.

He finds himself in a living room. Frank takes in as many details as he can while really looking for a door. The living room looks like a shrine of some sort. All the pictures are of a happy looking family, a set of parents and two young boys. The furniture is all covered in plastic, and a layer of dust is settled thick enough to indicate this room hasn’t be used in years. Except for one small corner with an empty guitar stand in it. It looks to be recently disturbed. Most of the things in that corner have “This belongs to Mikey! Do NOT touch, Getard!” scribbled on them in a child’s hand writing. Frank realizes the acoustic guitar Gerard had given him must have belonged to this Mikey, but Frank doesn’t stop to contemplate the significance.

The front door of the house has a small pane of glass in it, and Frank can see as he quickly approaches it a street intersection just past the small yard. Frank tries the keys in the deadbolt, knowing the door is going to be locked. Yet again he has no luck. Frank jerks on the doorknob in an angry fit. His freedom is literally only inches away, but he can’t cross them. Frank sighs heavily and lets his chin fall to his chest, trying to think. He suddenly has an idea: windows. He can crawl out a window.

Frank runs to the living room windows. He pulls as hard as his battered body will allow, but they don’t budge. Frank checks the window locks; they are unlocked. He carefully looks around the edge of the window sill. About every six inches is a screw locking the window in place.

“Fuck!” Frank curses. He makes his way deeper into the house in search of other doors and windows.

The sound of footsteps and movement causes Gerard to jerk awake. He throws his feet over the side of the bed to protect Frank from being taken from him, but his foot lands on the edge of the metal lockbox. Gerard throws his gaze to Frank’s side of the bed. Frank is gone. In the edge of his vision, Gerard spots the opened bedroom door. He calmly ascends the stairs to his kitchen. Not spotting Frank in there, Gerard heads for the living room. Gerard immediately notices things knocked over under the windows.

Gerard gingerly rights the turned over pictures of his family he lost so long ago. He reaches down to the floor and scoops up his younger brother’s guitar books and magazines sprawled across the floor. A tight grin pulls at Gerard’s lips at Mikey’s handwritten insult, “Getard.” He lovingly places the stack on the table they have been lying on untouched for years. He allows his fingertips to brush over Mikey’s words.

A stifled curse comes from one of the bedrooms. Gerard starts down the hall, peeking into his dead parents’ bedroom. Other than the curtains being disheveled, nothing seems out of place. And no Frank. Gerard pulls the door to and continues down the hall. Frank is in Mikey’s room. Gerard stands in the shadows of the hall and watches Frank move around the bedroom.

Frank was confused when he had entered this room. It’s obviously a small child’s bedroom, with toys, coloring books, and crayons scattered in the floor as if the boy who lived here is just out for a moment. The walls are adorned with colorful drawings of what appear to be comic book characters. But this room is just as layered with dust as the living room. No small boy has lived in this room for a long time. Frank reaches for the handles on the window. He pulls at it, but it doesn’t budge, just like all the other windows. Frank runs his fingertips around the edge and finds the same screws he has found in all the windows. He lets out a deep breath he has been holding. Frank picks up a teddy bear off the floor, brushing the dust off its fur.

“I bet you belonged to whoever Mikey was, didn’t you?” he asks the bear. Frank cuddles the bear to his chest. “What happened to your owner, huh?” He looks around the room. “And why does Gerard live in a moment frozen in time?” Frank strokes the teddy once again and lets out a dry laugh. “If you could actually answer my questions, I’d ask you how to get out of here.”

Gerard growls in the back of his throat. Frank maybe the most important and special person _alive_ to Gerard, but Frank doesn’t have permission to be in Mikey’s room, _touching_ Mikey’s things! Gerard glowers at Frank from under his eyebrows, his breathing heavy. He watches Frank place the stuffed bear on the bed and take one last look at the window. As Frank is exiting the bedroom, Gerard takes a single, small step forward. Frank nearly walks into Gerard before he sees him standing there and quickly jumps backwards in fear.

“What are you doing in here?” Gerard questions furiously. Frank doesn’t answer, unable to formulate a response that he believes Gerard would find acceptable. “ _No one_ is allowed in _his_ room,” Gerard snarls.

“Gerard, I…” Frank starts but fear overtakes him at the aggressive posture Gerard assumes.

“You what, Pretty? You were trying to escape? Trying to _leave_ me?” Gerard shouts.

Frank yells back, “You can’t keep me h—” but he’s cut off as Gerard forcefully shoves him backwards. Frank stumbles and falls backwards, his head hitting the corner of a dresser in Mikey’s room. He lands on the floor and lies still for a moment, his vision dark. As Frank comes back to, he reaches back and rubs his hand over the spot that hit the furniture. He looks down at his hand, and Frank can see a dark, glistening substance on his fingers… blood. He scrambles to his feet, but his legs are unsteady. Gerard just stands looking at him, his rage seething in his gut.

“You can’t keep me here,” Frank growls. Gerard leans forward just slightly.

“The first thing I ever told you was that there’s no way out, Pretty. The only way out is if I let you out, Frankie.” Frank knows Gerard’s tone of voice; it’s the same tone he used right before every time he beat Frank, the same tone Gerard had when he raped Frank last night. Frank swallows hard when he realizes he is now fighting for his life.

Gerard takes another step forward and reaches for Frank, but Frank weaves past Gerard and out of the room. He runs as best he can with the vertigo knocking his balance off but staggers into a wall. He looks over his shoulder. Gerard is leisurely following him, not a hint of urgency in his step. Frank gets back to his feet by bracing himself against the wall. He steadies himself and then dashes for the kitchen; he knows exactly what he’s heading for.

Frank stumbles across the kitchen, reaching his hand out for the wood block on the counter. He pulls a large chef’s knife from it and supports himself with the counter. He listens for Gerard’s footsteps but doesn’t hear them.

“What do you think you’re doing, Pretty?” Gerard’s malicious voice asks. Frank spins around too quickly; his step falters, and he pitches forward. As he lands on the floor, Frank feels a pain explode in his abdomen. He writhes his body until he manages to get rolled over onto his back. Gerard is standing over him, his gaze jumping from Frank’s eyes to lower on Frank’s body. Gerard’s eyes finally stay on Frank’s, and Frank watches Gerard’s angry expression soften. Frank’s vision begins to dim again, so he lets his eyes slip shut.

The knife is buried about three quarters of the way in Frank’s belly, and Gerard is diligent to not move it. He cautiously lifts Frank off the floor and carries him back down the stairs, back down into the basement, and lays Frank on the bed.

Gerard clicks the light on in the bedroom and then heads to the bathroom to gather the first aid kit and some supplies to clean Frank up when he’s done. When he gets back to the bed, he rouses Frank. Frank slowly opens his eyes but never looks directly at Gerard.

“I have to get this knife out of your stomach, Pretty,” Gerard informs him softly. Frank’s eyes grow wide. He lifts his head and looks down his body as his hand reaches for the wound. Gerard gently catches his hand. “Don’t, Pretty. I’ll fix it.” Frank looks up at Gerard with the same animalistic fear in his eyes he had a few mornings before. “Do you want some morphine, Pretty?”

Frank nods his head frantically. “A lot,” he grunts. Gerard lets go of Frank’s hand and brushes the backs of his fingers over Frank’s cheek. Gerard places a soft kiss on Frank’s forehead.

“Okay, Pretty,” he replies before heading back into the bathroom. Gerard pulls three suppositories out the bottle and looks at them in his hand. He’s not keen on giving Frank that much, but Frank had asked for a lot. He also grabs two sedatives and a bottle of water; obviously Frank didn’t take them the previous evening. Gerard sighs and walks back out to Frank.

“Here, Pretty, take these,” Gerard instructs. “They’ll help you sleep while I patch you up.” Frank doesn’t want to take them but knows he needs help, help Gerard isn’t going to seek outside of this house, so he allows Gerard to feed him the white pills.

With the knife still in Frank’s gut, Gerard can’t roll him to give Frank the three doses of morphine. Gradually Gerard eases Frank’s sweat pants off, trying to move him as little as possible. Once Gerard has them off, he slides Frank’s feet towards Frank’s body, bending his knees outward, and administers the three suppositories. Gerard helps Frank straighten his legs back out and covers him up. Then he nestles up to Frank’s side and pets his head.

“I love you, Pretty. I’m going to fix you, I promise. When you wake up, you’re going to be all better,” Gerard murmurs. Frank tries not notice that Gerard sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than Frank. Frank turns his head and meets Gerard’s gaze once more. “I love you, Pretty, so much,” Gerard utters and then presses a kiss to Frank’s lips. Frank closes his eyes and searches for the euphoria he knows the drugs will bring.

Gerard refuses to acknowledge the thoughts trying to enter his mind; he doesn’t want to believe his dreams the other night might come true. Instead, he just watches Frank breath while he continues petting him. Eventually Frank’s pain laced whimpers quieten until Frank is only drawing silent, shallow breaths.

Gerard climbs up from Frank’s side. He cuts the blood soaked shirt off Frank’s torso and examines where the knife is embedded in Frank. Gerard takes a shuddery breath; he can’t do this. He goes into the bathroom to the closet and pulls out the bottle containing the blue pills. He stands looking at them, debating taking them, and swallows hard. He knows he has no chance of saving Frank without something to calm his nerves, so Gerard takes just one, just enough to take the edge off.

Gerard walks back out to where Frank lies. He just watches Frank for a few minutes, waiting for the pill to kick in. Frank has an array of colors on his face and neck from bruises in various stages of the healing process. He also has some newer and older cuts. Gerard knows he can’t afford to wait any longer, so he stands from the bed.

He gets a small towel and a threaded needle prepared and places them where he can get to them quickly. Slowly he wraps his hand around the handle of his chef’s knife. Gerard takes a deep breath to prepare himself, and then he steadily pulls the blade out of Frank’s abdomen. Blood runs out of the gash, pooling on Frank’s skin and running down Frank’s side soaking the sheets. Gerard presses his hands over the laceration, but Frank’s blood seeps between his fingers. Gerard presses harder and holds them there for a few minutes.

“Please, Pretty, help me just a little,” Gerard begs before he checks the bleeding. The wound is still seeping, but it’s manageable. Gerard picks up the needle threaded with fishing line. His hands tremble slightly, but he knows he _has_ to do this if Frank is going to have any chance. Carefully he pushes the needle through the edge of Frank’s skin near the end of the laceration. Working as vigilantly as he can, Gerard places a stitch about every eighth inch, tying each one off before moving to the next one.

By the time Gerard puts the last stitch in, the towel is covered in Frank’s blood. Gerard picks up another towel and starts to check the back of Frank’s head. As soon as Gerard rolls Frank’s head to the side, he finds more blood pooled under it. Gerard inspects the back of Frank’s head. There is a split in Frank’s scalp about an inch long, but what bothers Gerard is the faint depression in Frank’s skull.

Before he can sew up the injury, Gerard has to scrub the back of Frank’s head where Frank’s hair is adhered to his head with coagulated blood. Once again, he delicately ties off small stitches to close the wound. Gerard sits down on the side of the bed and takes a deep breath when he’s finished. Now all he can do is wait to see how long it’s going to take for Frank to recover.

Gerard starts to run his hand through his hair when he realizes both of his hands are thickly coated in Frank’s blood. Instead he props up on his elbows and holds his hands out in front of him, mindlessly staring at them.

“You’re going to be fine, Pretty,” Gerard begins mumbling absently as he continues looking at the drying blood on his hands. “I fixed you. I sewed you up, Pretty. Fine, you’re going to be just fine. Frankie, everything’s going to be alright.” Gerard swallows back the tears he’s fighting. He turns to look at Frank. “Right, Pretty?” Frank remains motionless except for the small rise and fall of his chest, the center of a bloody mess. “I need to clean you up, Pretty,” Gerard murmurs weakly.

He collects the stack of washcloths and the bucket of now lukewarm water. He tries to scrub what he can of the caked on blood off, frequently having to change washcloths because there’s just so much. The stab wound on Frank’s abdomen is still oozing and the sheets and mattress under Frank are soaked making it difficult for Gerard to do a very good job, but Gerard is driven by what seems like a compulsion to clean Frank enough. Eventually he stops when he realizes he’s gotten as much up as he’s going to be able to get up right now.

Gerard begins rambling to Frank again as he dresses Frank’s injuries. “I’m trying to save you, Pretty. Doesn’t that count for something? When you wake up, will you appreciate that, Frankie? You’ll love me a little bit; people love those that save their life. I’m saving you, Pretty.” Gerard applies the last piece of tape of the gauze on Frank’s abdomen. Since Frank’s pillow is wet, Gerard folds up a clean towel and gently places it under Frank’s head.

Gerard has finally done all he can, so he curls up beside Frank’s body, snuggling as close as he can. He laces their fingers together. Gerard notices the bedroom door still standing open and makes a impulsive decision.

“Tomorrow is a new day, Pretty. When you wake up, everything is going to be different. Frankie, I’m not locking the door anymore. No more keeping you in the basement, Pretty. Just wake up for me, Pretty, and I’ll start all over.” Gerard leans his body over Frank and kisses Frank’s lips. Tears begin streaming down his cheeks. “I won’t live in the memory of what I had anymore, Pretty. I’ll make new memories with you. You can have the whole house, make it over however you want, Frankie.” Gerard breathes a shaky breath. “Please, Pretty, just wake up for me. _Please_ ,” Gerard pleads.

He nuzzles his head into Frank’s shoulder, tears still falling from his eyes. He tries to find Frank’s scent, but all he can smell is the overwhelming stench of liquid iron, of Frank’s blood. Gerard checks on Frank once more to make sure he’s still breathing before clicking out the light. The last of the day’s sunlight illuminates the room in an orange hue.

“Good night, Pretty. I’ll see you in the morning,” Gerard murmurs into Frank’s chest. Frank remains motionless and silent, only drawing slow, shallow breaths.


	10. Day 9

Gerard is pulled from a restless slumber by Frank shaking him. He smiles widely as he clicks the light on, relieved and excited that Frank is awake. He turns towards Frank in the bed, and his heart sinks.

“Pretty?” he calls in concern. Frank’s eyes are partially open, but he’s not awake. His entire body is stiff and jerking. Drool is running down and dripping off his cheek from where his head is turn sideways slightly. “Frank!” Gerard breathes out roughly, reaching his hand out to grip Frank’s arm. He has a difficult time holding onto Frank. Gerard leaps out of the bed and rushes around the bed to Frank’s side. He looks towards the open bedroom door, the thought to call for help pushing its way into his mind. But Gerard can’t leave Frank alone like this. And even more, if help comes, he’ll never see Frank again.

Gerard draws a deep breath and turns back to Frank. Gradually Frank’s body is loosening up, but it’s not happening fast enough for Gerard. He can feel his need to do something palpable in his gut, but he’s unable to think of a single idea. Without even thinking about it, Gerard pets Frank’s head.

“It’s almost over, Pretty,” he murmurs mindlessly. “You’re going to be fine, Frankie. Just hang on, and it’ll be over soon. I love you so much, Pretty. It’s almost over.” A tear slides down Gerard’s face as he fights allowing what he knows to surface in his thoughts. He wipes it away with the back of his hand and continues trying to comfort Frank even though Frank is still unconscious. Eventually, Frank’s body goes limp and sinks back down into the mattress. Gerard wipes the saliva from Frank’s face and then presses a kiss to Frank’s lips.

Gerard checks the dressings on Frank’s wounds while he’s up. The stab wound seems to have stopped bleeding for the most part, but the gash on the back of Frank’s head is still bleeding a little. Gerard grabs some supplies from the medical kit he left on the floor next to the bed. Carefully he changes out the soiled gauze for a clean one. As Gerard rolls Frank’s head back to where it was, he notices a small amount of clear liquid running out of Frank’s right ear. He wipes it away with little concern, assuming it to be drool he missed.

Gerard climbs back into the bed with Frank, snuggling close to him. He doesn’t bother turning out the light; he wants to look at Frank anyway. Gerard laces his fingers with Frank’s limp ones, and his thoughts start pouring out of his mind.

“Pretty, you have to wake up,” Gerard states softly, a desperate undertone in his voice. “You have to finish that song for me, Pretty. Remember it? The one you started writing when I was drawing?” Gerard pauses as if he’s waiting for Frank to actually answer him. “I know you remember it. I still have what you wrote down for it. I put it on my desk after…” Gerard’s voice trails off as he remembers the events of that day. “I’m sorry I hit you, Pretty. I’m sorry for every time I have ever laid a hand on you in anger. Please, Pretty. _Please!_ Just wake up, Pretty. I won’t hit you again. Ever. Just wake up. Pretty, just wake up for me,” Gerard begs as he is no longer able to fight back the tears.

He squeezes Frank’s hand tightly and raises it to his face, pressing sloppy kisses to the back of it over and over, and then he tucks Frank’s hand close to his cheek and just watches Frank breathe the same slow, shallow breaths he’s been drawing since yesterday. Gerard slips off to sleep with wet tears still on his face.

The sun is pouring into the room through the small window when Gerard wakes again. The first thing he notices is the eerie silence in the room, like the whole room is mourning. He can tell by the cool touch of Frank’s skin that Frank is dead. He slowly slides his eyes open and looks at Frank. Frank looks perfectly peaceful in his absolute stillness. Gerard swears there is even a hint of smile on Frank’s lips, and he kisses them despite their chill. “I love you, Pretty,” he murmurs.

Gerard lies back down beside Frank, wanting just a few more minutes before he does what he knows he has to do. Gerard swallows hard; his dreams were a warning, and he still killed Frank despite them. Once again Gerard starts to cry silently, just looking at Frank.

“It’s okay, Pretty. It’s okay you didn’t wake up,” he whispers. Gerard takes a deep breath and wipes his tears. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Pretty. You wouldn’t want them to find you here like this, would you?” Gerard forces a sad smile. “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t.”

Gerard gets up from the bed and goes into the bathroom to start a cool bath running. Then he pads back out to Frank’s side. He carefully picks Frank’s lifeless body up and carries him into the bathroom. He lays Frank’s body down on the floor long enough to undress him and then gently puts Frank into the water. Gerard starts by shaving Frank’s jaw and then meticulously washes Frank’s hair and body. He dries Frank off with the same care and begins carrying him back into the bedroom.

“Doesn’t that feel better, Pretty?” Gerard lays Frank down on the bed. “I know you feel better. You like to be clean.” Gerard kisses Frank’s forehead and pets his head a couple of times. “I love you, Frankie.” Gerard walks around to the dresser and retrieves a set of Frank’s clothes he had bought for him. Frank’s body has begun to stiffen, causing Gerard to have a hard time dressing him, but Gerard manages to get Frank fully dressed. He makes sure his clothes are neat, and then he combs Frank’s hair. “You look just beautiful, Pretty,” he mutters.

Gerard steps over to his closet and pulls out some clothes for himself: black pants, a black button up shirt, and a red silk tie; it’s the same thing he was wearing when he first met Frank. He quickly changes his clothes and then makes his way into the bathroom. He puts on his makeup as best he can and then looks at his reflection in the mirror. He knows there are only two things left to do now.

Gerard walks over the bathroom closet and gets out the bottle of sedatives he’s been giving Frank. He pours them into his hand. He has twenty six left, but Gerard knows that is more than enough. He takes all of the white pills. Once again he goes back out into the bedroom, and he walks over to his desk. Very carefully, he writes, “I killed the god known as Frank Iero. Gerard Way” on a piece of his art paper. Gerard tapes it to the door as he heads out of the bedroom.

Gerard climbs the steps up to the main level of his house for one last time. He goes to the phone in the kitchen and picks up the receiver. Gerard dials 9-1-1 and waits for the operator to answer.

“Essex county 9-1-1. What’s the location of your emergency?” comes a female voice through the phone.

“I know the location of the missing Frank Iero. He’s at 137 Newark Avenue in Belleville, in the basement,” Gerard states dejectedly. He hears to woman trying to ask him something else, but Gerard hangs up the phone. He knows he has limited time left; he is already beginning to feel the sedatives’ effects. He makes his way into Mikey’s room and gets the stuffed bear Frank had placed on Mikey’s bed yesterday.

“I’m sorry, Mikes,” he breathes to the room before he leaves it. Gerard has to hold onto the wall as he descends the stairs to the basement. He staggers across the room and snuggles as best he can up to Frank’s body.

“I’m here now, Pretty,” he says softly. He tucks the bear into Frank’s other arm. “I got Mikey’s bear for you, Pretty. I don’t mind you having it anymore. Mikey would have shared it with you anyway, Frankie.” Gerard takes a deep breath. “It’s not long now, Pretty.” Gerard stretches up and kisses Frank’s cold cheek. “I love you so much, Frankie. I’m sorry I did this to you. You deserved so much more.” Gerard pauses, and a tear slides down his cheek. “Can I sing for you, Pretty? I want to.” Gerard rests his head on the pillow and closes his eyes.

“ _So long to all of my friends,_  
 _Everyone of them met tragic ends,_  
 _With every passing day,_  
 _I’d be lying if I didn’t say,_  
 _That I miss them all tonight_

 _And if they only knew,_  
 _What I would say,_  
 _If I could be with you tonight_  
 _I would sing you to sleep,_  
 _Never let them take the light behind your eyes_  
 _One day, I’ll lose this fight_  
 _As we fade in the dark,_  
 _Just remember you will always burn as bright_.”

Gerard laces his hand with Frank’s that has grown somewhat stiff. He grips it firmly and continues singing softly.

“ _Be strong, and hold my hand._  
 _Time becomes for us, you’ll understand._  
 _We’ll say goodbye today,_  
 _And we’re sorry how it ends this way_  
 _If you promise not to cry,_  
 _Then I'll tell you just what I would say._

 _If I could be with you tonight,_  
 _I would sing you to sleep,_  
 _Never let them take the light behind your eyes._  
 _I’ve failed and lost this fight,_  
 _As we fade in the dark,_  
 _Just remember you will alwa_ …”

Gerard’s voice fades away as he slips into sleep. Only a few minutes later, he draws his last breath, joining his god in the ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to a friend of mine, Ash, whom without her help and support I might not have finished this chapter.
> 
> I honestly cried writing this chapter. I have grown to love both of these characters so much, and I believe in some small way I needed to grieve for them. It was very difficult to finally put words to what I've known was going to happen all along.
> 
> And yes, I know I changed the last three lines of "The Light Behind Your Eyes;" it was intentional. And this chapter is only about half the length of the other chapters; this too was intentional, as they didn't live to see the entire day.
> 
> Hang around just a little longer for me. In the next couple of days, I'll post the epilogue to this story, and you will find out a little bit more.
> 
> Thank you all so much!! Hugs and loves!  
> Miz


	11. Epilogue

… _It wasn’t until a phone call into the city’s tip line was received today that police got their first lead. That lead led police…_ to find the body of Frank Iero in a basement of a Belleville home, just outside of Newark, NJ. The home was only miles from Iero’s own residence. According to a statement issued by the police department, Iero had been tortured for days before his death. Initial findings have Iero’s death at only hours before police found his body, but as of now, police have been unable to identify the cause of death. An autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow morning.

The man who owned the home, Gerard Way, 31, was also found dead in the basement. At this time, Way is the only suspect. Once a prominent family in the community, the Ways were killed when their car was struck by a semi that had lost control on an icy road nineteen years ago. Gerard Way, the elder son, was the only survivor and spent his remaining childhood years in St. Peter’s Orphanage in Denville, NJ, a facility that services children with emotional problems. The family home was cared for by a named proxy in Mr. and Mrs. Way’s will until Way was of the age of majority, at which time he was awarded the family estate.

Bandmates of Iero’s from LeATHERMOUTH and former bandmates from Pencey Prep will hold a public memorial service tomorrow evening in Iero’s hometown of Belleville, NJ. Details for a private service and interment are not being released.

In a statement he made on the family’s behalf, Dewees said that Iero would always be remembered as the kind-hearted, energetic musician that he was. Dewees also asked that the family’s privacy be respected during this time of grieving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have loved writing this story, no matter how stressed it has made me at times. It came out so much better than I ever thought it would, and it is my favorite story of my own.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that has read this story! And a very special shout out to all of you that have left such amazing comments!
> 
> My love to all!  
> Miz


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